


white blank page

by their_dark_materials



Category: Emmerdale, robron
Genre: (sort of), Co-worker AU, Emmerdale Big Bang Round 2, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hidden Office Romance, M/M, Music Snob Aaron, Out and Proud Robert, POV Aaron Dingle, Resolved Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, The Rom Com No One Asked For, Then Just Actual Tension (Bring Knives), Unresolved Sexual Tension, pride and prejudice au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-07-10 09:41:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 99,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15946745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/their_dark_materials/pseuds/their_dark_materials
Summary: Aaron’s a semi-closeted music journalist for a regional newspaper. Robert is the newly hired out-and-proud sex and relationship columnist he hates. But when they’re forced to work together, Aaron realises that irritation quickly turns into attraction. Can he overcome his past and find the strength to choose his future?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes it takes a village to write a Big Bang fic, and honestly, I had some of the best villagers possible, who helped, poked, and prodded me every fun or painful way through the writing of this massive, monstrous fic, and I genuinely don’t know where it would be without any of them.
> 
> Thank you to my amazing team of betas @NotForOneSecond, @Persiflager, and especially (like, seriously, y'all) @LettheBlueRain for helping me through many a writer’s block, brainstorming, and just plain old panic session. Each and every one of our discussions has only influenced this fic for the better, and I genuinely couldn’t have done it without any of you. You’ve all seen me at my most annoying, and I truly and deeply apologise for that. Hopefully, it’ll only get better from here.
> 
> A special thanks to my smut mentor and somewhat writing therapist, @thesnowyswan. Each and every scene of smut in this fic owes thanks to you. You taught me so much but reassured me about even more. And for that, I don’t think I can ever thank you.
> 
> To my wonderful cheerleaders (and quite frankly necessary) calming influences, @Whatdiknow, @illgetmerope, @searhythm, @blondhairedking, @aarobron, and @getyourfaceoutofmyface, thanks for cheering me for as much as each of you has done. I truly appreciate every scrap of it. This fic pushed me to my limit, and you guys always put a smile on my face, and I will truly never forget that.
> 
> I also want to thank @emmerdalebigbang for organising this amazing event and for being ever so patient with my numerous questions and messages. You were probably busy and quite swamped, so I appreciate all your considerations and kindness.
> 
> And lastly, to my amazing Big Bang artist @robronsnuggles, working with you has been an absolute dream from promising start to a brutal, harrying almost-finish, and I could never have asked for a better person to share this journey with. Everything you’ve produced is frankly, awe-inspiring for me, and I’ll never have the words to describe how it feels every time I see one of these ridiculously awesome pieces. You found a way to incorporate my actual words and turn them into these images that perfectly reflected what was in my brain at times they weren’t even on the page. It’s not often you get to work with someone that unfailingly nice, and for the months we did, I’m forever grateful. (Also like, if you’re reading this, please go check them out and fan out over them because they deserve it and I couldn’t stan them harder.)
> 
> And now, what you’re all here for. I hope you do enjoy it... 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron meets his new co-worker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended Listening: 'Portions For Foxes' by Rilo Kiley

 

 

**CHAPTER ONE**

He’s fighting the urge to laugh out loud, but judging from the way Adam’s kicking him under the table and the half-second glares he keeps throwing him anytime the girl he’s chatting up — well, more like attempting to chat up — looks away, he knows he’s growing increasingly unsuccessful.

In his defence, it’s hardly his fault that his best friend has accidentally claimed that _yes_ , _he’s related to_ Mischa _Barton_ , some actress a quick Google search revealed starred on something called _The O.C._ , instead of his real famous relative, best-selling novelist (and actual mother) Moira Barton.

The mistake had been made innocently enough, when Adam, who’s more than used to people asking if he’s a relation, hadn’t waited the extra few seconds for the actually quite nice Sophie to finish her inquiry before answering with a bold and confident, “Yes, yes I am.”

Only instead of correcting the mistake when he’d figured it out fifteen minutes ago, Adam had panicked and doubled down, committing to having to spend however much longer the freckled, short-haired brunette will spend talking to him before she decides to give him her number (or blow him off) making small talk about a TV series he knows nothing about. (“Oh… Yeah… I hated when Ryan… did that too…”)

And because he’s still got half his pint and it’s a pleasant evening — and the backyard of this bar is too packed to bother leaving — Aaron’s found himself with a front row seat to the funniest train wreck of a conversation this side of Manchester, with the slowly bruising shins to prove it. 

So, in an effort to reduce his best friend’s suffering (and his own), he does the next best thing: he puts down his glass and pulls out his phone. But before he can send Adam a text outlining a way for him to switch topics, an automatic notification pops up on his screen, with a matching telltale _bing_ from the other man’s phone.

_Great._

Instantly, Adam livens up, throwing Aaron a smile that indicates that he’s about to get everything he’s spent the last twenty minutes or so dishing out, right back — possibly tenfold.

“Wonder what he’s done now?” his soon-to-be-former best friend asks, tapping and swiping away eagerly.

“Who?” Sophie asks, turning to look across the table at Aaron.

He just picks up his glass and takes a long sip, not ready to have this perfectly good evening ruined by a mention of _him_.

“Robert Sugden,” Adam answers, the shit-eating grin on his face never wavering. “That sex columnist who writes for _GQ_ magazine?”

Aaron stares at him, trying to read where this newfound benevolence has come from. Only he quickly realises that it hasn’t, because Adam’s smile only widens as he adds, “... and Aaron’s _boyfriend_.”

He can feel his cheeks grow warm at the sing-song tone in Adam’s voice, and he rolls his eyes even as his hand tightens around the base of his glass. But nevertheless, he manages to remain calm, the feeling of irritation that comes over him when he even thinks of that man fading once more.

“You have a boyfriend?” Sophie asks, glancing over at Aaron, sounding a little disappointed — a slight step up from the usual shocked, “Oh. You’re _gay_?” he’s been hearing from people for half his life now.

Aaron tenses, immediately firing a quick look at Adam, who upon receiving it, replies with an apologetic one, having quickly realised his mistake. He mouths a quick, “Sorry” before both men turn to face Sophie.

“Uh, no,” Aaron answers, fighting the urge to add, _“_ Is that a problem? _”_

He clears his throat and awkwardly explains, “Adam just calls ‘im that because he knows I don’t like ‘im.”

He emphasises that last point with a pointed glare at the man sitting opposite him.

Realisation dawns in Sophie’s eyes and she laughs. It prompts him to quickly add, “But, uh, I _am_ gay.”

“Oh, thank God,” she says, breathing a sigh of relief and taking a sip of her House Chardonnay. “I was hoping, but I didn’t want to assume.”

Aaron finds himself nodding, brow furrowing in confusion, even as the tension that had been building in his body slowly ebbs away. 

“What do you mean?” He asks, nervously.

“I’d actually come over to ask for _your_ number,” she tells him, clearly a little mortified by this admission. “My older brother Nick’s new in town and you seem like his type.”

“What’s that?” Adam butts in playfully. “Grumpy and rude?”

“No,” Sophie replies, shaking her head even as she smiles at his friend’s antics. “Attractive and intelligent.”

Aaron purses his lips and smiles, grateful for the compliment.

“But then ya met him and changed ya mind, right?” Adam asks, half joking half serious, earning himself a mock glare from across the table.

Sophie studies his best friend’s face for a second before saying, “No, he actually proved me right.”

He watches as Adam’s face falls and he attempts to put on a brave smile. Sophie reaches forward and takes a sip of her wine before adding, nonchalantly, “Anyway, it’s not I like I would have spent _this_ long chatting with someone who doesn’t know what _The O.C._ is if I weren’t completely interested in him as well.”

She turns and looks at Adam meaningfully.

This time Aaron doesn’t contain his laughter, letting it burst out of him as he takes in the gobsmacked expression on his Adam's face. He decides he likes Sophie a lot more after this.

There’s another _bing_ from Adam’s phone, and out of the corner of his eye, Aaron can see his own phone present him with a matching notification. He turns it face down on the table.

“Alright,” Sophie asks, leaning on her right hand. “What’s the real story with this Robert bloke? He an ex or somethin'?”

Before Aaron can give her an answer, Adam’s exploding into that squawking laugh of his, hand smacking against his knee.

“Can you even imagine?” He says, shoulders shaking. “Aaron Dingle dating _Robert Sugden_?”

Feeling the weight of his friend’s gaze, Adam eventually calms down enough to explain. “Nah. Aaron doesn’t like ‘im because he thinks he’s not a good writer. Too much ‘flash.’ Not enough ‘substance.’” 

“Because he’s _not_ a real writer,” Aaron insists, the alcohol in his system mingling with his renewed annoyance to rev him up the way talking about his dislike of Robert Sugden always does. “He’s supposed to be helpin’ people by givin’ them advice about sex or whatever. But all he ever does is just brag about some threesome he had last weekend. Or how he can give a life-changing blowjob.”

Just as he finishes, there’s a lull in the general conversation that his words immediately flood, drawing all the attention on the back deck over to him; a few heads even turning their way. Aaron feels his cheeks heat up again as he stares at his glass sheepishly, pulling the ends of his hoodie sleeve over his palms. At the periphery of his vision, he can make out the shape of what is Adam Barton attempting _not_ to erupt into snickers at what he said, so as to ruin his chances with Sophie, who, to her credit, hasn’t batted an eyelid.

The moment soon passes and chatter resumes. 

“Yeah, but he’s not all that bad,” Adam says gently, his words directed a little more at Aaron than Sophie. “He does give some pretty good advice from time to time. I actually went out and bought a floral print shirt because of ‘him. And he was right. It totally brought out my eyes.”

Aaron smiles grudgingly, mentally attributing it to the big grin his friend is directing to the woman beside him, instead of the man who directly caused the actions of that story.

“Besides, he knows how to write what people want to read,” Adam continues, his focus back on Aaron as he brings up his usual defence of the works of Robert Sugden. “That’s why he’s so popular. That, and he’s actually quite funny sometimes.” 

Aaron waits a second for the passion that’s still possessing him to cool somewhat, before lowering his voice and replying, “Yeah. But he wouldn’t even be writin’ in the first place if he weren’t also _Jack Sugden’s_ son.”

Right on cue, Sophie’s greenish-grey eyes widen at the mention of the older Sugden, recognition sparking in them. If Moira Barton’s true crime-inspired thrillers are currently household names, then Jack Sugden’s international bestsellers are beloved institutions. Aaron still remembers the first time he’d read Jack’s first novel, _A Man, United_ , on the bus to school one morning. He’d started out of a mix of boredom and curiosity, and ended with the firm desire to become a music journalist, driving around the country listening to bands, and writing about concerts, inspired by Jack’s tales of how he’d done the same while listening to what was essentially the soundtrack of the ‘80s, slowly finding himself as a person and a writer. It’s still one of his favourite pieces of music journalism.

It’s clear from the look on Sophie’s face that she understands, if not has a connection with Jack’s books as well, but somehow she refrains from bringing it up, asking instead, “So. I’m guessing you’re both writers?”

“Yeah,” Adam replies, big beaming smile on his face, pleased for the chance to brag about himself. “For _Manchester Today_. I cover sports, and Aaron here writes about music and stuff.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you have notifications set for this Sugden fellow,” Sophie points out. “It doesn’t sound like he’s your competitor.”

Aaron decides that he likes her a lot less than he did a second ago.

Thankfully, Adam steps in again.

“It’s part of this pact we made,” he explains in that charming, self-deprecating tone he always turns out when trying to win over a possible date. “I follow ‘im so Aaron doesn’t have to. That way he gets to find out why people are talkin’ about Robert without havin’ to read his actual work.”

“That’s oddly… sweet,” Sophie says thoughtfully, before smiling from Adam to Aaron, quickly rising in his esteem in the process. “You’re a good friend.”

“Well, I do my best,” Adam replies, bashfully.

Aaron smiles into his glass as he takes a sip, letting his friend have this one.

“So,” Sophie asks, glancing at them curiously. “What’s this Robert done _this_ time?”

“Guess we’re about to find out,” Adam informs her, unlocking his phone.

Aaron waits, unwilling to give Robert any more clicks than he needs to. Instead, he leans back against the wooden trellis behind him, and gazes up at the fairy lights twinkling overhead, as the sky slowly goes from a lush purple to an inkier blue.

“It’s a guide to… _oral sex_ ,” Adam informs him, awkwardly clearing his throat as his eyebrows shoot up. A second later, a cheeky smile lights up his face. “It’s called, ‘Watch Your Tongue’”

He turns the phone screen towards Aaron so he too can admire the witty wordplay. (Though unbeknownst to him, Aaron’s eyes are focused on the smug grin captured in the black and white author’s photo included right below.) Beside him, Sophie smiles as she glances at Adam’s phone over his shoulder, her left hand gently resting on it. Only she also decides to add the observation that, “Wow. He’s quite handsome.” 

Aaron bristles, rolling his eyes. Yes, Robert Sugden _is_ fairly good looking, but that’s not the point. The point is that Robert Sugden’s just some guy who goes around sleeping with people, and then writing about his experiences in all their salacious detail, without offering much-added insight. He might as well be writing a _blog_.

It’s not real writing. Because he’s not a real writer.

 _Like me_. 

“Oh,” Adam adds, surprise in his voice. “It says here that today’s his last day at GQ.”

A wave of silence passes through them as they process this news.

“Guess that’s good news for you two, right?” Sophie comments cheerfully, taking a sip of her wine. “No more of his wild and crazy sexcapades to read about… Right?”

“Yeah,” Aaron replies, nodding absentmindedly. “Guess so.”

He takes another sip of his beer.  


:::::  


It takes him the entirety of the twenty minute car ride from the bar and the two minute walk up to his flat before he finally breaks and pulls out his phone, heading straight to Robert’s Twitter profile; ignoring the number of shares and likes and comments the social media post announcing his latest story has gotten, in favour of the link embedded in it.

He clicks.

Despite his best efforts, the tongue-in-cheek (literally) illustration juxtaposed against the headline makes him smile, it’s playful wit immediately apparent once again. But before he can continue, his eyes once again snag against the byline and the insufferable grin beside it; the words _Robert Sugden_ sticking out at him, reminding him of what he’s about to do.

After a few seconds of furious internal debate — his thumb hovering right over the BACK symbol the entire time — Aaron decides to push on, curious to see what work Robert would present to the world on the last day of his job.

The result, as Adam had noted earlier in the evening, is surprisingly funny and decently educational, eliciting a few more reluctant smiles from Aaron every now and then. Perhaps if he were drunker, and it wasn’t so late, he’d bring himself to say he’d actually enjoyed reading it, helped in part by a brief spell where he finds himself actually wanting to try out suggestion no. 7 at some point in the future, something he’d never pictured happening, ever.

 _Huh._ Aaron thinks, re-evaluating his feelings for the blonde man whose cocky, if not overly _smug_ tone is a constant irritation to him anytime he encounters him across the social media landscape.

 _Maybe he’s not_ so _bad after all_.

He exits out of the article and is about to leave Twitter, when he spots the tweet right after the one he’d been looking for.

 **@RobertSugden:** Yes. It’s true. Today marks the end of my time @GQ. I’d ask if it was just as good for you, but I haven’t met a reader I HAVEN’T satisfied… yet. ;)

 _Nevermind_.

He locks his phone and places it face down on his bedside table, preparing to go to bed.  


:::::  
 

An hour of twisting and turning later, he still can’t get the other man’s stupid smile out of his head, so Aaron grabs his phone, unlocks it and quickly pulls up a tab on his mobile browser.

It hardly takes seconds before he’s fallen head first into a hate-reading rabbit hole, spurred on by visions of that same smug smile.  


:::::  
 

He wakes up to the sound of a buzzing phone, and a sum total of 7 text messages — each getting more frantic than the last. 

 **ADAM  
** Hey. What time you getting here? We might have some time to grab coffee before the meeting.

 **ADAM  
** Hey. You on your way? I can just pick yours up and meet you in the conference room. Let me know, yeah?

 **ADAM  
** You close?

 **ADAM  
** Oi. Aaron. Pick up.

 **ADAM  
** MATE. WHERE ARE YOU?

 **ADAM  
** Aaron. Wake up.

 **ADAM**    
AARON.  
 

The word “meeting” wakes him up in a way that just glancing at the time (8:45 AM) a few seconds ago hadn’t, and he’s left scrambling out of bed in an attempt to brush his teeth, get dressed, _and_ leave his flat within the next five minutes.

(If he’s being really optimistic, he’ll probably only miss the first 15 minutes of their weekly edit meeting. If he’s being realistic, he’ll be lucky if he catches the last 15 minutes.)

He curses Robert Sugden’s name all the way through.  


:::::  
 

As predicted, he’s only able to make the final part of the meeting. So he slips into the back of the room, his arrival covered by the fact that most of their newsroom appears to be packed into this tiny space, instead of only the writing staff.

He learns why a minute later, when Jai Sharma, their Editor in Chief, introduces Lawrence White, the paper’s new owner.

 _Fuck. Forgot that was_ today.

“Thanks for the introduction Jai,” the older man says, stepping forward.

He’s not what Aaron had pictured when they’d first gotten the company-wide email about the newspaper being bought by the owners of White Page Publishing, but based on his immediate gut reaction to seeing the older man, he seems like a decent enough bloke. At least he’s not one of those young tech-money types who is always coming in with ideas to “disrupt” how news gathering and reporting is done.

_As if the actual news isn’t disrupting enough._

Aaron shakes his head to clear it so he can focus on what is currently being said.

“... quite happy with the work being done here,” Lawrence announces, his voice carrying through the whole room. “However, as with all things, there is always room for improvement. That is what I want you to focus on in coming weeks: What can we do to increase our number of online readers? What are our competitors doing that _we_ can do better? What is the most interesting way we can tell our stories?”

Aaron has to fight the urge to roll his eyes at that. It’s nothing he hasn’t heard increasingly in recent weeks, with Jai repeatedly hammering in these same points during their weekly section meetings. It’s even why he and Aaron had met up and grabbed a drink yesterday. Only much like all their impromptu “brainstorming sessions” it had just turned into another evening at a bar.

“Hopefully, that’s something our new hires can help with,” Lawrence continues, once again capturing Aaron’s meandering attention. Only this time, he notices that the smile on his new boss’ face isn’t reaching his eyes.

 _Interesting_. He makes a note to follow up with Adam about who these new colleagues might be.

“In the meantime, my highly trusted second-in-command and daughter, Chrissie, will be in charge,” Lawrence adds, nodding over at the tall brunette standing right behind him.

She returns his smile with a nod, stepping forward to address the room. “I’ve spoken to Jai, and we’ll be setting up one-on-one meetings with each of you very talented writers. So please start thinking of any ideas you might want to pitch for your section. Or, perhaps, any possible collaborations between them. Especially for online.”

Aaron thinks back to the email currently sitting in his draft folder, and wonders if that’s what she might be looking for. But just as soon as he even begins to entertain his idea of it, he brushes it off, even the thought of it seeming distant and impossible.

 _Like they’ll go for_ that.

When he brings himself to focus once more, the meeting is being dismissed, with Jai reminding everyone they’ll be having welcome drinks later that evening at a nearby bar. But that’s the furthest thing from Aaron’s mind, his eyes scouring the room in search of his best friend.

Unable to locate him, he shoots Adam a text.

 _Made it after all. Still want to grab that coffee?_  


:::::  


With no immediate response — not an uncommon occurrence when it comes to Adam Barton — he decides to head back to his desk and deposit his backpack and coat before going to get himself a coffee anyway.

Only as he approaches his workspace, he spots a new addition, one that comes with quite a view — at least from where he’s standing.

Aaron watches as the blonde man, who’s dressed in extremely well-fitted dark blue jeans and a black leather jacket that shows off a pair of narrow (but no less attractive) shoulders, picks up and slowly goes through the small collection of CDs he keeps at his desk — even pausing on his current favourite, _Islands_ by Bear’s Den.

But it isn’t until this other man flips the CD over and runs a slender thumb over the Post-It stuck to the back (complete with his rambling musings scribbled in black felt tip pen), that Aaron feels a sudden thrum of _want_ shoot through his system.

He almost shakes his head, surprised both by the strength of his reaction and the fact that he had one. Because while he’ll admit that the stranger is no doubt easy on the eyes, Aaron Dingle as a rule does not check out — let alone flirt — with men in the office, seeing as it’s never quite possible to tell if the man in question is a colleague from another department, a story source that’s come in for an interview, or most crucially, also interested in men. (Not that he would date a co-worker, even if the latter was the case.)

“Saw them in concert last year,” he finds himself blurting out, filled with some perverse need to impress the blonde man, in spite of his usual reservations. He’s also taken a step forward since then, so he ends up almost _growling_ the words in this other man’s ear. “They’re even better live.”

He just barely manages to stop himself from adding, _They’re in town next week._ We _should go._

Instead, Aaron watches as the stranger straightens his back in surprise, revealing himself to be taller than expected — something that (strangely) excites him. But he pushes that down as quickly as it comes up, unsure what to make of it, or his reactions to this other man.

“I’m sure they are,” the stranger replies as he turns around. “You’ve got excellent taste.”

Aaron’s not sure what hits him first; the intelligent glint in his green-blue eyes as they slowly size him up, the sun-kissed tan that emphasises both his blonde hair and the smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks, or the thin, pink lips that frame what has to be the cockiest smile Aaron’s ever laid eyes on in his life.

A smile he’d spent most of his night grumbling about.

A smile he can’t believe he’s currently on the receiving end of.

A smile he’s thought about punching off its face, more than once.

Whatever warmth he’d felt suddenly cools, an intense iciness taking its place.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Aaron growls, any trace of the flirty playfulness from the previous few seconds stripped bare from his voice.

The other man seems to sense it, his smile faltering for half a second before shifting back in place another half a second later. He carefully places the CDs down exactly where he’d picked them up from.

“Hi, Robert Sugden,” he says, his left hand finding its way to his jacket pocket, while holding out his right. “But _you_ probably already know that, don’t you?”

The hints of pride and unfiltered smarm in his tone only cause Aaron’s frown to deepen.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” he replies bluntly, ignoring the question and the accompanying gesture of greeting. “This is a newspaper. We don’t have a sex column.”

To his dismay, Robert’s smile just grows wider, the glint in his eyes getting sharper _._ He leans back and sits on the edge of Aaron’s desk, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Guess someone missed the morning meeting then,” he says teasingly. “Wonder why? Busy night?”

Despite himself, Aaron feels his cheeks grow warmer, as his traitorous mind once again reminds him that yes, someone did keep him up last night. Not that the man standing in front of him (or his apparently massive ego) need to know that it was technically him who’d done so.

“Maybe you should be the one writing the column,” Robert quips, giving him another appraising look. But then, as if he finally notices the look on Aaron’s face, he rolls his eyes and adds, “Because, yes, _Aaron_ , there is going to be a column. All about relationships, and _sex_. Just one of the many changes Lawrence and Chrissie will be bringing about in the next couple of weeks.”

He waits a beat before going back to his flirtatious tone and adding, “But don’t worry, I’ll sure _we’ll_ still have plenty of time to get to know each other.”

“How do you know my name?” Aaron asks, narrowing his eyes and searching the taller man’s face for any hint of a clue.

“What kind of writer would I be if I didn’t do my research first?” Robert answers, his smile turning into a full-blown smirk now.

Aaron rolls his eyes, unimpressed, before taking a step forward. Only instead of moving as any sane, polite person would do, Robert doesn’t budge, remains sitting on the precious few inches of free space Aaron’s managed to carve into his messy, almost cluttered work area.

He gives him a few more seconds, but when he doesn’t see any results, Aaron leans forward, towards Robert, locking eyes with him, his gaze suddenly growing more alert and aware than it has been at any previous point in this conversation.

As Aaron inches closer, he tries not to focus on the sight of Robert’s tongue darting out, wetting his bottom lip, and disappearing again, or the way his white button-down shirt seems to gently move with his chest, signalling every inhalation and exhalation, their breaths slowly starting to sync up, or even the way his _own_ heartbeat seems to speed up the nearer he gets to the other man’s face…

When he’s mere centimetres away, Aaron brings up his left hand, allowing it to curve around Robert’s neck, and over his shoulder, as he reaches out for what he’s been aiming for all along. Robert’s eyes don’t leave his as he brings his face closer, before tilting his head and leaning forward past his right ear, in the process getting a whiff of the Tea Tree conditioner he uses to maintain his thick head of hair. It brings with it a burst of surprise, seeing as he’d never really associated Robert Sugden with the scent, his imagination — the few times it has centred around him — always having supplied a mixture of cheap alcohol, cigarettes, and overpriced cologne.

Before his mind can go any further, his fingers wrap around the cool plastic of the object he’s been reaching for, and he slowly starts retracting his hand, while also moving his head to aim his lips directly at Robert’s ears, as he whispers, “The kind who can read a press pass.” 

For a second, he thinks he both hears Robert’s breath hitch, and sees a shiver run through his body, but any trace of that is gone by the time Aaron’s leaning back and standing up straight again, an unimpressed expression on his face as his Leeds Festival 2017 press pass, with his name printed out in bold right in the centre, dangles from his hand.

It’s now his turn to flash a smug grin, knowing full well he’s caught Robert in a lie.

Only he doesn’t seem to be all that bothered, and his smile, while smaller than it had been a minute ago, is still on his face.

“Just thought I’d get to know my new _deskmate_ ,” Robert shrugs, springing this little bit of information on him like it’s no big deal. “Is this how you treated your old neighbour?”

Aaron knows the shock must be evident on his face, because the smile on Robert’s face quickly grows bigger and cockier at this latest revelation.

“Oh yeah,” Robert continues, getting to his feet. The move only bringing closer to Aaron, barely a centimetre of space between them as he stands at his full height, making him just that little bit taller — and causing Aaron to have to crane his neck ever-so-slightly upward. “Didn’t they tell you? I’ll be sitting right over _there_.”

Aaron follows Robert’s hand as he brings it up, his thumb gesturing behind him at the desk directly on the other side of his own, with a small grey divider serving as the only thing keeping their spaces separate. He stares at the desk, blinking as he remembers Finn Barton, the Entertainment Section’s editorial assistant, and his constant whining about almost every aspect of his life and measures it against having to sit across from _Robert Sugden_ for the rest of the foreseeable future. He doesn’t even know how to react.

But unlike him, Robert doesn’t seem to be bothered, having already moved on to other topics, namely the question of Aaron’s wardrobe?

“You know,” Robert says, practically purring the words at him. “I do have a spare suit jacket, if you want to borrow it, for later.”

“What?” Aaron retorts, confused as to where this is going.

“For welcome drinks, at that bar tonight,” Robert explains, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. “Unless you’re planning on attending in what is, I’m sure, your… _finest_ hoodie.”

For a moment it appears as if Robert’s going to run his hand across his shoulder, his hand hovering just above it. But then he doesn’t, and Aaron is surprised to find that he’s actually a little disappointed by a lack of the other man’s touch.

But he brushes that aside to correct Robert instead — something he’s quickly finding has become his new favourite thing, if only for the look on his face. 

“I don’t need a suit,” he informs him bluntly. “Because I’m not goin’.”

Robert just stands there and gapes at him.

“What do you mean you’re not going? Why would you do something like that?” He questions, genuinely puzzled by this move on Aaron’s part. “Don’t you want to get to know Lawrence and Chrissie? Or, you know, any of your new co-workers?”

A _Don’t you want to get to know me?_ hangs in the air between them.

Aaron just sticks his bottom lip out and shakes his head.

“I’ll be seein’ Lawrence and Chrissie durin’ our one-on-one meetin’ anyway,” he explains, making his lack of concern quite clear. “And I think I already know more than enough about my new co-workers, thanks.”

“But aren’t you worried about possible layoffs?” Robert asks, his tone actually serious as his eyes study Aaron’s face. “Don’t you want to know you did everything you could to keep your job?”

Aaron just shrugs, “If they don’t want me because I produce good work, then why would I want to keep workin’ here?”

When he glances back up at Robert, he sees that he’s just staring at him, a glimpse of something Aaron can’t quite put his finger on flickering in his eyes. It vanishes a few seconds later.

Robert clears his throat. “Well, if you change your mind and decide to come after all. It’ll be hanging right there.”

He gestures at the coat rack that’s been placed against the wall in the corner, and the garment bag hanging on it. Seeing as they’re the only two other people in this section of the office today, there’s a low likelihood it could belong to anyone else.

And just like that, it seems like a switch has been flicked, because all of a sudden that smarmy smile is back and Robert’s looking at him with that glint in his eye and he’s lowering his voice to say, “Bet you don’t look half bad in a suit.”

“You writin’ a fashion advice column now as well?” Aaron fires back as rudely as he can, unsure of how to handle this resurgence of confidence in Robert, while also trying to calm the little shiver of excitement that’s run through him at his words.

Robert simply smirks in response. “Don’t need to know about fashion to know that good advice is still good advice.”

With that, he takes a step forward, brushing past Aaron’s shoulder.

“Look forward to working with you, _Aaron_.”

Carried by the momentum, he finds himself turning to watch as Robert practically swaggers away — taking with him whatever body heat had been building between them and leaving Aaron’s front feeling a little colder than before, as the heat disperses into the cold office air. It takes a few seconds before he eventually pries his gaze away and turns towards his desk, letting out a slow exhale, in an effort to stop his heart beating as rapidly as it is right now.

Aaron doesn’t know what he’s madder at himself about: his reaction to Robert Sugden, or the fact that he didn’t recognise him any sooner. (To be fair, it’s Adam’s sworn duty to warn him of news like this in advance. Not leave him to come face to face with it standing and smirking at his desk, pawing through his things like he’d given him permission.)

He pulls out his phone and messages his still-incommunicado best friend.

 _Guess who_ I _just met?_  


:::::  


_adam.barton is typing…_

**adam.barton:** you kiddin me??? he was just there? right at ya desk?

 **aaron.dingle:** yeah. just goin thru my cds like they were his.

 **adam.barton:** sorry mate!!! meant to text ya as soon as Jai announced it, but i was sittin’ next to priya and you know how SHE gets when people text during meetings.

 **aaron.dingle:** its fine adam. really.

 **adam.barton:** i just feel bad. i’m ya best mate. i’m SUPPOSED to warn ya bout stuff like this. 

 **aaron.dingle:** yeah well who couldve guessed that robert sugden was going to be my new deskmate.

 **adam.barton:** so… what’s he like?

 **aaron.dingle:** just like waht you’d expect: a smug bastard.

 **adam.barton:** is he fit?

 **aaron.dingle:** why? you looking for a boyfriend?

 **adam.barton:** NO.

 **adam.barton:** just feel weird calling him your boyfriend if he wasnt. that’s all.

 **aaron.dingle:** if you’ll excuse me, i have work that needs doin

 **adam.barton:** what? You honestly sayin you wouldnt? cmon mate! i’m straight and even I’D have to think about it.

 **aaron.dingle:** let me know when you want that comin out party.

 **adam.barton:** very funny. i’m just sayin… it HAS been a while since you had an ACTUAL boyfriend… i just worry about ya. that’s all.

 **aaron.dingle:** thanks. but i don’t need ya help. i’m doin’ just fine.

 **adam.barton:** ALRIGHT. Alright. but what about this welcome drinks thing? you’re comin to that, right?

 **aaron.dingle:** no. headin home instead.

 **adam.barton:** what? WHY???

 **aaron.dingle:** what do you mean, why? its just a party for people to suck up to the new owners. its not like i’ll be workin with any of the new people anyway.

 **aaron.dingle:** … unless there’s a new music writer you forgot to tell me about?

 **adam.barton:** ha. ha. very funny.

 **adam.barton:** no… i was actually thinkin of goin. you know, get my face in front of lawrence and chrissie before that big one on one meetin. reckon they might actually approve some of my pitches then. was actually hopin you might come with me. moral support for when i’m suckin up and all that.

 **adam.barton:** sides. it could be fun!

_aaron.dingle is typing…_

Aaron looks away from the computer screen in front of him, mulling over his decision on whether to actually attend tonight’s event or not.

On the one hand, he’s been looking forward to a quiet night in: just himself, some Chinese takeaway, and a solid few hours of video games (something he’d scheduled the minute he’d gotten that email announcing it) … 

But on the other, is the fact that this is his best mate asking him for what is essentially a professional favour of sorts, something that under any other circumstances, would warrant his immediate agreement.

 _Only_ this _one involves spending time in the same place as Robert Sugden_.

His gaze falls on the garment bag currently hanging in his line of sight, the beige exterior serving as a reminder of its sandy-haired owner and his self-satisfied grin.

Aaron almost snarls at the memory, even as an involuntary shiver runs through his body as Robert’s tone of voice replays in his head. 

_Bet you don’t look half bad in a suit…_

It’s enough to make him reaffirm his previous negative response. Only when he looks back at the screen he’s greeted with an new message. 

 **adam.barton:** please mate. you KNOW i’d do the same for you.

Aaron sighs. Because it’s true. If the roles were reversed, Adam would be there for him in a heartbeat, just like he’s been there for every _other_ part in his life — including helping keep tabs on Robert. (The latter pretty without much questioning.)

 _Half the staff will be there_ , he tells himself. _You probably won’t even run into him._

_aaron.dingle is typing…_

**aaron.dingle:** …

 **aaron.dingle:** fine.

 **aaron.dingle:** but you’re buyin my first round.

 **adam.barton:** i’ll buy your first THREE rounds!!! Seriously man, your the BEST. 

 **adam.barton:** *you’re

 **aaron.dingle:** idiot.  


:::::  
 

He’s spent most of his afternoon avoiding the sight of the garment bag, but now that it’s almost time for him to start getting ready to go meet Adam, Aaron finds that he can’t _stop_ staring at it.

Robert never returned to collect it — _or_ revoke his offer of Aaron borrowing the jacket housed inside — so as far as _he’s_ concerned, Aaron feels like the offer probably still stands. Hell, Robert had pretty much insisted, hadn’t he?

Besides, it isn’t _that_ big a deal to borrow a co-worker’s jacket for a work event. Especially if said co-worker pretty much abandoned the article of clothing in his care.

Aaron’s just doing the supportive, responsible thing. That’s all.

_Don’t want to embarrass Adam by turnin’ up in my ratty old hoodie, do I?_

In any case, he’s already planned on having the jacket dry cleaned before he returns it the day after. At least that way, Robert can’t complain that he ruined it with his smell or something. (Not that Aaron ever smells particularly bad. While he may not use fancy hair care products like Robert undoubtedly does, he does make an effort to always smell clean, if not fresh.)

Finally, at peace with the decision he’s made, Aaron slowly gets to his feet, glancing around at the rest of the open-floor newsroom. Save the occasional straggler typing away at their desk — most likely one of the nightly news editors — most of the desks are empty, with no one around to see what he’s about to do.

Taking a deep breath, he makes his way over to the coat rack, where he unzips the garment bag as slowly and quietly as he can.

As promised, inside is a black suit jacket, which Aaron reaches for carefully, grabbing it by the “shoulder” and gently easing it, and the hanger it’s on, out. Once free, he gives it a once-over, letting his fingers absorb the feel of the high-quality fabric. He almost can’t believe that Robert would let him _,_ a virtual stranger, borrow such a fine piece of clothing.

_One of the perks of being famous._

Aaron hangs the suit on one of the rods sticking out of the top of the rack, while he shrugs off his hoodie, forever grateful that he’d chosen to wear a clean, long-sleeved maroon shirt underneath it today. Then, without further ado, he slips on the suit jacket…

His first thought is that it’s actually quite comfortable. His second, is that it’s a little tight in the arms. With that in mind, he turns towards the nearest window to check how it looks, using the slowly-darkening sky as well as the office’s fluorescent lighting to create a makeshift mirror for himself.

To his surprise, his reflection actually looks good, the jacket actually emphasizing and accentuating his biceps, something he considers one of his finest features — if not, _the_ finest. He watches as his mirrored self slowly flexes and unflexes his arm muscles, partly out of fear of ripping the borrowed jacket, and partly because he likes the way it looks.

 _Huh._ He thinks as he watches his muscles carefully. _Guess there_ is _a point to all them fitted suits of his_.

He chuckles and shakes his head at the thought, knowing full well he won’t be telling his new deskmate any of that.

He turns to admire the way the jacket sits on his reflection some more.

 _Maybe_ _tonight won’t be_ so _bad._  


:::::  
 

He’s been there for all of five minutes and he already wants to leave; the bar Jai had selected is packed, there’s some kind of awful techno music being pumped through the speakers, and he’s yet to get that drink his best friend had promised him a few hours ago, what with Adam still waiting to order their beers.

There’s also the small matter of this new look resulting in him being on the receiving end of a few young _women’s_ romantic (and in one case, sexual) overtures. But that’s when any one of his colleagues isn’t commenting on “how much sharper he looks” (Tracy Shankley, the resident gossip columnist), or how he’s “puttin’ in some effort, for a change” (Bernice Blackstock, the beauty advice columnist). Paddy Kirk, the senior tech reporter and his somewhat mentor, even lauds his being here in the first place (“I know it’s not your thing, but I’m glad you’re at least _tryin’_ to get to know the new owners”).

So he just looks for a corner where he and the well-fitted suit jacket can go hang out without drawing any more attention to themselves.

But that soon proves unnecessary, as the music goes soft and all the heads in the room quickly turn to face the front door…

Only instead of the familiar forms of their new owners, Aaron sees that they’re graced with none other than Robert Sugden — dressed the same as he’d been this morning — and some young, blonde woman on his arm. (At least her smile is friendly and kinder than the one he’s busy flashing around.)

 _So that’s where he was_ , Aaron thinks, rolling his eyes. _Busy pickin’ up his_ date. 

“No need to wait on my accord to get this little welcome party started,” Robert announces with a wink.

Aaron rolls his eyes, groaning inwardly as the music starts up once again. He watches as Robert goes up to where Jai and Priya, one of the finance editors, are standing and introduces them to his date before easily slipping into conversation with them.

“Who’s _that_ , with Sugden?” Adam asks as he finally joins Aaron at the tall table he’s standing by in the corner. He slides him the bottle of beer he’d gone to procure, while also eyeing the couple of the moment.

“Dunno,” Aaron shrugs, accepting the offering and immediately taking a sip. “Probably the subject of his latest article.”

Adam lets out a low whistle, nodding his head in appreciation. “Well, I’ll tell you this, she is well fit.”

Aaron turns to look at his friend, his brows furrowing in disbelief. “What happened to Sophie? You know, the girl from _yesterday_?”

“What about her?” Adam asks, not quite getting his friend’s objection.

“Thought you were datin’ her,” Aaron says, emphasising his point.

“Yeah, but we’re just textin’ each other right now,” Adam explains. “Doesn’t mean I can’t see other people. At least, not until we decide we’re exclusive.”

He laughs seeing the expression on Aaron’s face. “Mate, datin’s a lot different now. You’d know if you’d actually give it a try.”

Aaron just shoots him a _Don’t you dare get started again_ look, and thankfully Adam obeys, choosing to take a sip of his beer instead.

“Still…” His friend says, gazing wistfully across the room at the young woman, who’s currently laughing and swatting Robert’s arm. “I’d give anythin’ for a chance with her.”  


:::::  


It isn’t long before Lawrence and Chrissie make their entrance, though it’s nothing as big as Robert’s happened to be. If anything, it actually takes the newspaper staff a good few minutes to realise they’ve arrived.

Not that it seems to stop Robert from starting to cosy up to either of them almost instantly, making them laugh with a charming ease Aaron has yet to really experience from him. It causes an odd flutter in his belly he can’t really name.

_Probably how he got this job in the first place._

It’s as Robert and his date seem to be moving on from their chat with Lawrence and Chrissie, that Adam taps him on the shoulder excitedly.

“Think I should go over now?” He asks, clearly filled with a nervous energy.

Aaron studies the faces of both Whites and nods. “Yeah, seems likes they’re in a good mood. More likely to make a good impression and all that.”

“Cheers,” Adam says, slapping him on him on the arm. He takes a step towards them, before stopping and turning around. “You sure you don’t want to come? You did get all dressed up and stuff.”

His eyes narrow for a moment as he seems to take in Aaron’s appearance. “Speakin’ of which… That is a _nice_ jacket, mate. Where did you get it?”

Aaron thinks of blue-green eyes and a smug accompanying smile, and feels his cheeks heat up as his heartbeat starts to speed up — all while his mind scrambles to come up with an answer that isn’t “Robert Sugden.”

“A friend,” he lies, his gaze now trained downward on his drink hoping Adam can’t see the beads of sweat he’s sure are gathering on his brow.

If Adam had called Robert his boyfriend before, what would he call him now?

_Probably upgrade him to "husband."_

But Adam just stands there, nodding appreciatively. “Well, it looks great on ya. Much better than all your regular stuff”

Aaron just nods, eager to move on from the subject. “Better hurry. Might miss ya chance.”

“Alright,” Adam says, turning back towards the Whites. “I’m going in.”

“Good luck,” Aaron wishes him, raising his beer in a toast. “Try not to tell any story _you_ think is funny.”

“Ha ha,” Adam responds, rolling his eyes at the comment. But he smiles a moment later, noticeably a lot calmer — and less curious — than he was a moment ago. “Thanks.”

With that, he turns and heads over, leaving Aaron to steady his heart rate in peace.  


:::::  
 

He’s just taken a sip of his third beer when he hears a voice in his ear, the underlying tone instantly sending chills up his spine. 

“So. _This_ is where you’ve been hiding.”

He doesn’t need to turn around, because Robert Sugden is standing beside him, their arms just a hair’s width apart, a moment later.

“I’m not hiding,” Aaron retorts, not caring if he’s being rude.

“Then why would you be tucked in some corner, when you’re wearing _that_ ,” Robert says, giving him a slow once-over, even from where he’s standing. “Or should I say, _it’s_ wearing _you_.” 

Even though Aaron’s been getting looks like that from strangers all night so far, it isn’t until right now that all the blood seems to be rushing to his face _._

“It’s your suit,” he argues, his mouth running dry despite the alcohol he’s been sipping.

“Not anymore,” Robert replies, the corner of his mouth quirking upward as he takes a sip of his own drink (an Old Fashioned, on the rocks). “Don’t think I can ever wear that again without picturing you in it.”

He’s not sure what really does it, the flirty tone in Robert’s voice, or his own rising annoyance with the way he’s been reacting to it, but Aaron places his beer bottle down on the table and turns to look at Robert square in the eye.

“Don’t you take anything seriously?” He asks, eyes locked on Robert’s face as he searches for any kind of honest reaction.

He gets one, as Robert turns to face him as well. “I am taking this seriously. I’m not joking Aaron, you look great in that suit. You should consider wearing one more often.”

“Oh yeah, and which ‘Guide to Gettin’ Lucky’ is _that_ from?” Aaron finds himself asking, his annoyance colouring his words. “Top 13 Ways to Chat His Pants Off?”

There’s a beat as Robert just looks at him, a spark of something glittering in his eyes, like he’s spotted something on Aaron’s person that he can’t quite believe. Aaron swallows nervously, feeling a new kind of energy throb between them — one that makes his stomach flip and his eyes immediately flick down to Robert’s lips just in time to see a pink tongue quickly moisten them, before shooting back up to his eyes again.

The moment passes, the energy dispersing with it. 

“It’s not from any guide,” Robert explains, slight confusion filling his voice. “I’m just a genuinely a fan of yours… Though it would appear that the feeling’s mutual. Read a lot of my work do you?”

“No,” Aaron shakes his head because technically it is the truth. _Adam’s_ the one who reads them — not that Robert needs to know. “Too busy doing some real writing.” 

Robert nods, letting out a wry chuckle. “I know. I really enjoyed your story on little-known landmarks in Manchester’s musical history. It was smart of you to do it like an oral history. Really took us back there.”

“You read that?” Aaron asks, his surprise causing him to blurt the question out. According to Jai barely anyone had.

His reaction puts a slow smile on Robert’s lips, the expression softening his features and making him look years younger.

 _And a lot more kissable_ , his mind informs him with absolutely no warning.

But before he can process _that_ , Robert’s already talking again. “Like I said, I’m a fan. I’ve been reading your work since you were back at NME.”

Aaron’s eyebrows shoot up at the revelation, which the other man takes as a sign to keep going. “You know, I really thought Rolling Stone would snap you up after you wrote that Lumineers profile for them. But I’m glad they didn’t…”

He looks down at the glass in his hand as he adds, “You’re much better _here_.”

He nods and looks back up at Aaron, that same smile still on his face. Only now it seems to have become a little shyer and a lot more endearing — especially when combined with the slight flop of blonde hair that’s currently falling across his forehead.

It’s enough to make Aaron actually believe him.

“Thanks…” He responds, genuinely touched by Robert’s kind words. “Didn’t know you were so into music.”

“I’m not,” Robert tells him, shaking his head. “But I _do_ enjoy good writing. Especially when it makes me… care.”

He holds Aaron’s gaze for a few seconds before clearing his throat and adding, “You know, about _music_.”

Aaron finds himself nodding in response, for once completely understanding exactly where Robert Sugden is coming from. After all, it’s part of why he got into music writing in the first place; it was a way for him to process all the things he’d grown up feeling as a confused and angry teen, figuring out his sexuality all by himself in a small English village; a way to express himself, and possibly get _other_ people to see and care about what he cared about as well.

To hear that he’d not only succeeded in doing that but that he’d made the usually flippant and seemingly uncaring Robert Sugden feel something…

Well, that feels like a hell of a compliment.

He files it away for later.

But before he can say anything, they’re interrupted by a loud, excited voice on their right.

“Robert! _There_ you are! Chrissie’s been wonderin’ where you’ve gone off to! She said she wanted to chat future column ideas?”

Aaron turns, only to find Robert’s date standing there, a big smile on her face. Up close she looks a lot younger than he’d assumed she was when she’d walked in.

Her words seem to send a jolt through the man next to him, and he slowly turns to face her as well.

“Uh, thanks Vic,” he says, his voice devoid of any of his usual attitude.

Aaron watches as her gaze flickers back from Robert to him, and back.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” She asks. Only before he can actually do so, she’s shaking her head and holding out her hand and doing it for him. “Hi, I’m Victoria. And you are?”

He leans over the table and takes it, giving it a brief shake as he replies, “Aaron.”

“Vic’s my sister,” Robert informs him, having finally found his tongue.

 _Oh._ Aaron prays his cheeks aren’t turning as red as the burning embarrassment he feels on the inside. _Better tell Adam._

He swallows nervously as Robert looks at Vic and adds, “Aaron works at the paper with me. He’s actually my new deskmate.”

The younger woman absolutely _beams_ at his mention of that. “A deskmate? That’s so cute!”

She turns to Aaron and fixes him with a firm stare, before telling him, “Now, don’t mind him if he tries to get on ya about bein’ tidier. He is a bit of a neat freak like that.”

“Vic!” Robert exclaims, voice filled with the exasperation of every person who’s ever been embarrassed by a younger sibling.

“What?” She shrugs. “I didn’t want ya to scare off ya new friend. That’s all.”

Aaron grins at that, already a fan of Robert’s sister and the side she seems to bring out in him.

“Well,” Robert says reluctantly, turning back to Aaron. “Guess I better go see what the new bosses want.”

“Probably looking for some tips,” Aaron jokes, seizing the opportunity to tease Robert while he’s still a little off-kilter thanks to Vic’s appearance. “Top 9 Ways to Tell Your Employees are Into You.”

Robert lets out a laugh at that, before giving Aaron a rueful smile. “Guess I’ll see you later then.” 

“Guess so,” Aaron replies, before taking a long sip of beer.

After a few seconds of staring, Robert simply nods and walks off.

Aaron turns to face Vic, who’s still standing there, a curious expression on her face.

He clears his throat just as he spots a familiar face moving towards them in the crowd.

“So… have you met Adam Barton yet?”  


:::::  
 

As predicted, Adam and Victoria get on like a house on fire, her infectious energy matching his more easygoing one. Before long, they’re finishing each other’s sentences and sharing inside jokes, making Aaron almost feel like the outsider in the situation.

So, when he reaches the end of his third and now final beer, Aaron decides to call it a night. Especially since there’s no one he really feels like talking to, as both Cain and Paddy have already headed home.

Even Robert, who he hasn’t been checking on or anything, has been waylaid by _yet_ another conversation, this time with Lawrence and another young man in a suit, and it appears that he won’t be coming back anytime soon.

Aaron signals to Adam that he’s leaving but he just gets a distracted nod, Adam’s attention solely focused on Vic, who spares him a few precious seconds as she looks at him and smiles, hastily wishing him a safe journey home before once again focusing on his best friend.

He just smiles and shakes his head, before he makes his way to the exit. As he’s about to push on the door’s firm wooden handle, he feels as though someone’s watching him, and for a brief moment he’s possessed by a brief flicker of hope. Like someone’s going to call his name any second…

But when he turns around, there’s no one there, everyone wrapped up in their own conversations.

 _Come on Dingle_ , he tells himself the way he always does when he’s filled with that pleasant alcoholic buzz he usually enjoys.

 _Better get home before we keep imagining things_.  


:::::   
 

He’s sliding under the covers when his phone buzzes. He unlocks it to find another kind of notification.

 _@RobertSugden is following you_  

Aaron swipes and taps his way onto Twitter, before clicking on Robert’s profile, which boasts well over 27,000 followers.

He gazes at the little ovalish-rectangle in the top right corner, the one he’s diligently avoided for the last few years. Only now, he finds that he can’t bring himself to not return the gesture. Not if he’ll be faced with seeing Robert’s face every morning for the foreseeable future. 

He clicks FOLLOW.

Aaron scrolls down to take a look at Robert’s latest tweets, three, in particular, catching his eye: 

 **@RobertSugden:** Some personal news. As of today, @ManTODAY will bepaying me to KEEP talking about sex. So hit me with all your burning (and NON-burning) questions!

 **@RobertSugden:** Some FREE advice: You should really see a doctor if that is the case btw.

 ** **@** RobertSugden: **.@ManTODAY Am I allowed to call it my next official BI-LINE? ;) 

Aaron snorts, shakes his head, before finally clicking, LIKE.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron goes on a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended Listening: 'Cut to the Feeling' by Carly Rae Jepsen

**CHAPTER TWO**  

He can’t believe that Adam has as much energy as he has right now, considering he’s just told him he only got back home at 3:00AM in the morning, having spent the rest of his night at the bar, deep in conversation with Robert’s sister.

“I’m tellin’ you man, she’s amazing,” Adam gushes as he stirs sugar into his coffee. “We had so much to talk about. Can you believe she even knows who Sir Bobby Charlton was without me havin’ to explain it to her?”

“So coolin’ things off with Sophie then, are ya?” Aaron asks, refixing the travel lid onto his drink.

“Told ya mate, keepin’ my options open,” Adam waves him off. “What if Vic changes her mind and decides she doesn’t want to see me anymore? I mean, stranger things have happened!”

Aaron takes a small sip of his hot black coffee, and mutters, “Nothin’ stranger than you havin’ _two_ dates.”

“Anyway,” Adam says, ignoring him in his eagerness to move the conversation along. “What’s it like, sharin’ a desk with ya boyfriend?”

“He is _not_ my boyfriend,” Aaron replies, looking around to see if any of their co-workers, or worse, Robert himself overheard. Thankfully they’re alone. He turns back to Adam with an annoyed look and throws his balled up empty sugar packet at him. “So you better stop callin’ him that. At least at work.”

“Sorry,” Adam apologises good-naturedly. “But come on, what’s it like? He keep any weird stuff on his desk?”

“Wouldn’t know,” Aaron shrugs. “He hasn’t come in yet." 

He thinks of the seat at the desk opposite his own, and how it had remained empty _well_ past 10:45AM, when he and Adam had both decided to take a quick break and grab some coffee. “Probably decided to take the day off. Not like he’s got work to do.” 

He smiles to himself as he thinks of the possibility of a Robert Sugden-free day, where he can get all his work done without having to so much as look at Robert. 

 _Or his stupid smug smile_. 

“Nah,” Adam says, dismissing the idea and bursting his slowly growing bubble of bliss. “Probably just had a late night. Saw him leave the bar with this redheaded model-type chick just before we did. I’m sure if you try, _you_ can remember what that’s like.”

Aaron turns and gives him a pointed look, but his best friend just grins and adds, “But you know, with blokes.”

Aaron just rolls his eyes and takes a sip, ignoring the small knot in his chest.  
 

:::::

He comes back to his desk to find two things waiting for him: an email from Jai, and a slightly hungover Robert Sugden, still sporting the same outfit he’d had on all of yesterday — not that it appears to put a damper on his spirits any.

“Morning,” Robert greets him cheerily, as he leans back in his chair, legs stretched out in front of him, his arms on either hand rest. He’s wearing a pair of sunglasses, that he soon takes off and hangs on the first button of his white shirt. The smile on his face stretches into his eyes, as he lets his gaze trail over Aaron’s casual hoodie, vintage t-shirt, and ratty old jeans-clad form, as if almost aware that Aaron had spent a good 10 minutes this morning making sure he was completely dressed _down_ so as to not be on the receiving end of any more comments from his new neighbour.

“Bit late to call it that,” he replies rudely, gently setting his coffee down on his desk, before carefully sitting down in his seat. “Or you too busy to notice the time?”

He can feel Robert’s eyes on him as he does his best to focus on the screen in front of him, his cursor moving to click on Jai’s name. But the sound of Robert’s full-bodied chuckle renders him unable to actually read what’s written in the body of the email.

Despite his best effort, he finds himself peering up at his new deskmate, who is simply sitting there and watching him carefully, his smile fading somewhat.

“What?” Aaron asks gruffly after a few seconds of his cheeks growing steadily warmer under Robert’s searching gaze.

“Nothing,” Robert shrugs, something like _disappointment_ flashing in his eyes. “Just watching how a _real_ writer works… That’s all.”

“Why? Hoping you’ll learn something?” Aaron fires back, eyes back on the screen in front of him, coaxing his mind to focus on the words being displayed.

“Think I already have,” Robert replies, his tone perfectly nonchalant, but also a bit teasing.

Aaron feels the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, while a small pit begins to form in his stomach. His mind begins to spin through the possibilities of what’s being implied.

“What do you mean by that?” He asks, his voice careful and measured, while his gaze hones in on Robert’s face, as it tries to decipher what he’d meant by that last comment.

The silence seems to stretch between them forever, ratcheting up Aaron’s pulse with every silent blink of Robert’s eyes. His mind flashes back to that moment last night, when Robert had looked at him with something akin to _recognition_ in his eyes and he wonders if…

 _He can’t know… Can he?_  

“Just that being a music writer is a lot more boring than I thought,” Robert finally answers, seeming surprised by the intensity of Aaron’s question. “I thought you’d be listening to more music, or going out to concerts. So far all you’ve done is sit at your desk and check your email.”

Aaron exhales slowly, letting his heart rate calm down before he answers, “Yeah, well, it’s almost noon. Bit early for a concert.”

“Oh. So you agree?” Robert asks, firing up his laptop before looking back up to give Aaron one of his now-trademark smirks. “I’m not too late after all.” 

Aaron rolls his eyes and brings himself back to the matter at hand.

“Shut up.”

:::::

It’s half past twelve and Aaron’s fairly certain he already has a solid case built in his favour if he were to murder Robert Sugden right now.

He’s spent the last hour or so trying to prepare for his meeting later today with Jai, where he’ll be going over and discussing any pitches he has for Lawrence and Chrissie — as well as his current job performance. And if the added pressure weren’t enough, he’s had to contend with the fact that Robert is currently treating their shared workspace like it’s his home.

First, there was the incessant humming, Robert apparently having gotten Carly Rae Jepsen’s “Cut to the Feeling” stuck in his head on his way to work, only to insist on recreating it with just his voice, for Aaron’s non-amusement. (While Aaron will grudgingly admit that his new deskmate can indeed carry a tune, he had not appreciated him knowing only the chorus, which he’d kept on repeating at various tempos.)

He’d reacted fairly politely to that — or as polite as he gets anyway — glaring at Robert for half a minute until he’d finally sensed him and looked up (wearing his usual overly-confident smirk), to which Aaron had simply grumbled, “Do you mind? Some of us are trying to work here.”

The smirk hadn’t vanished, but surprise had still bloomed in those green-blue eyes (more blue than green today) — perhaps the dawn of a steady realisation that he’d been bothering his neighbour — and he’d given him a quick nod of agreement, which Aaron had thought was the end of the matter.

But then had come the _loud_ reading.

Aaron hadn’t known that it was possible to do what is one of the quietest activities ever, while also making that much noise, but Robert Sugden had quickly proven to be a case study in it; there were the snorts of disbelief when he found something stupid (which was often), the almost out-of-rhythm drumming of his fingers as he waited for a page to load (which was occasional), and the wry chuckle when he truly found something funny (which was altogether rare, but still fairly annoying).

Aaron had almost said something, but as he’d looked up to do so, Robert had chosen that exact moment to stand up and yawn, stretching his arms above his head as he did so, attempting to work out the kinks in his body. Only just as he’d been about to deliver his snarky comment about “Maybe gettin’ some actual sleep,” he’d discovered that unlike yesterday, Robert’s white button up was not only untucked, but that it had ridden up, giving him a clear view of a thin strip of just-as-tan-and-freckled-skin that covered his slim, taut waist.

Taken by surprise, Aaron had felt his mouth run dry, his eyes unable to move from that narrow band of flesh. Whenever he’d thought of Robert Sugden in the past — which, again, hadn’t been a lot — he’d never quite pictured him _shirtless_ …

Though now that he’d met him (and smelled him, as his mind unhelpfully reminded him), he’s started to find it harder to do otherwise.

But just as it had appeared, that flash of skin had vanished, causing Aaron to quickly divert his eyes back toward the screen in front of him. Only Robert hadn’t sat back down again, instead, he’d slowly peeled off his black leather jacket, before turning in his place to drape it across the back of his chair, placing one knee in the centre of his seat so as to steady himself as he did so.

Despite himself, Aaron had glanced back at Robert then, unable to resist even a possible glimpse of some part of Robert Sugden’s bare torso. Only he’d been met with a fully clothed view of his new desk mate’s clearly firm behind, and the slim dip of his back, as emphasised by the fitted quality of the shirt. He’d barely held back a sigh.

Eventually, he’d managed to pry his gaze away from Robert Sugden’s rear end, but in the process, he’d found his attention drawn to Robert’s forearms, as he’d commenced the process of carefully unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling back his sleeves. 

And with that, the dryness had spread from Aaron’s mouth to his throat, as he’d watched the cotton of those white shirt sleeves really highlight the lean muscles of Robert’s arms. However, as he’d then discovered, the _real_ stars of this impromptu show were Robert’s long and slender fingers, carefully measuring and folding each roll — a far cry from Aaron’s technique of grabbing a clumsy fistful of fabric and just roughly rolling back, only to have his sleeves come loose again, the fabric sliding back past his wrists.

“Can I help you with something?”

He’d looked up to find Robert looking at him, with a slight furrow in his brow, and an odd twinkle in his eye, as if he’d known what Aaron was thinking and was enjoying the hell out of it — much to Aaron’s sudden discomfort.

“Uh yeah,” Aaron had found himself answering his mind spinning for an answer as to why he’d been staring at his co-worker as he’d slowly adjusted his outfit.

Robert’s eyebrows had lifted, his mouth quirking upward clearly waiting for him to finish the rest of his sentence.

That’s when he’d spotted his excuse, something that had made him almost want to kick himself for not noticing earlier.

 _To be fair, we were_ kind _of busy with something else_ , his brain points out, supplementing the thought with an already stored image of Robert’s barely naked stomach, but he ignores it in favour of saying, “Was wondering if that shirt came with elbow patches, or if you stitched ‘em on yourself.”

He’d watched carefully as Robert had done a bit of a double take, his attention immediately going to his elbows, which had patches of light brown fabric on them. When he’d looked back at Aaron, there had been a faint blush on his cheeks, and the smile on his face had gotten a little less smug.

“Bit rich coming from _you_ ,” he’d replied teasingly. “I’m starting to think all you own is hoodies.”

“So what if I do?” Aaron had replied, a note of unintended playfulness escaping into his voice. He’d then tried to restrain it as he’d asked, “I’d rather dress my age than like some country squire.”

He’d been surprised to see his words get an actual laugh out of Robert, his eyes crinkling at the corners as his mouth had widened into a bigger smile, revealing two rows of perfect white teeth. The sound itself was a rich, almost lyrical guffaw that had caused a wave of warmth that reverberated all the way down to his toes.

Aaron had found himself reluctantly smiling at his own joke too, surprised at how easily it had slipped onto his lips in response.

“Maybe I should pitch that,” Robert had said, when he’d eventually calmed down a few seconds later.

“Top 10 Tips to Dress Like a Country Squire?” Aaron had asked incredulously. Even with the kind of creative license Robert might have with his column, that felt a bit like a stretch.

“No,” Robert had replied, shaking his head. “A makeover. For you.”

Then, when Aaron had simply stared at him in response, he’d added, in a voice that lightly mocked Aaron’s own words, “Top 10 Ways to Dress to Impress.”

He’d rolled his eyes at Robert.

“Fat chance of that mate,” he’d said, looking back at his computer screen. “I’ve not got anybody _to_ impress.”

Hearing it out loud had made his reply seem sadder than it had been in his head. But the fact of the matter was that he really didn’t have anybody he even wanted to impress.

 _Except for maybe you,_ he’d thought, remembering when he’d first seen him the day before.

Sensing Robert’s eyes on him, he’d turned to look back at him, only to find him gazing back at him with something akin to understanding in his green-blue eyes.

“Everyone has someone they want to impress,” he’d said quietly, clearly meaning every word. “Even if they don’t know it yet.”

Aaron had felt a shiver go through him at that, the combination of Robert’s unexpectedly gentle tone, along with the genuineness of the sentiment being expressed, touching him more than he’d have liked to admit at that moment. 

So he’d simply nodded, before lightly snarking, “That the subject of your latest column?”

He’d watched as once again that sharp twinkle had re-emerged in Robert’s eyes, his smile slowly turning slicker. “Actually, I was thinking it might be nice for _us_ to collaborate on something. Work on something light and fun. You know, like, ‘69 Songs to Get You In the Mood.’”

Robert had followed that up with a knowing wink, instantly erasing any goodwill Aaron had been feeling for him up until this moment while reigniting his desire to focus on his work.

After that, things had calmed down somewhat, with Robert even getting up and leaving for a spell — but not before offering to bring Aaron something back from the kitchen area, a more considerate gesture than he’d expected from him.

Aaron had gruffly declined, just relieved for Robert to leave, and give him a bit of a break from the thoughts that were popping into his head courtesy of his mere presence.

That had been 10 minutes ago, and Aaron was finding that he was still having a hard time clearing his head and working on his pitches for Jai.

Frustrated, he’d logged onto the newsroom’s official chat, shooting Adam a quick message.

 **aaron.dingle:** he’s here now. and he’s doin my head in.

 **adam.barton:** lol. what’d he do?

 **aaron.dingle:** what DOESN’T he do? it’s like he needs attention ALL THE TIME. i swear he’s just tryin to wind me up.

 **adam.barton:** just ignore im then! can’t wind you up if ya not payin attention, can he?

 **aaron.dingle:** spose ya right

 **adam.barton:** speakin of distractions…

 **aaron.dingle:** whatever it is, it’s a no.

 **adam.barton:** aw cmon mate. you haven’t even heard what it is!!!

 **aaron.dingle:** what is it

 **adam.barton:** maybe it would take ya mind off robert if you grab a drink with sophie’s brother tonight.

 **aaron.dingle:** don’t you think it’s a bit weird she’s THIS invested in her brother’s love life?

 **adam.barton:** no. i think it’s sweet. besides. it’s not her tryin to set you up ya idiot, it’s ME.

 **adam.barton:** i was askin her about im and i think she’s right. you’d probably like im if you actually met im. just give it a chance.

 **adam.barton:** i’ll stop callin robert ya boyfriend if ya say yes.

_aaron.dingle is typing…_

Aaron stares at the screen, actually considering it. The last thing he needs right now is Robert Sugden accidentally hearing his best friend’s teasing of him. Given his brief experience with Robert, he’s fairly sure he’d never live it down.

He’s about to finish typing out his response when he sees the window containing the document of his pitches for Jai…

He shakes his head, trying to clear it out of his last-second whims.

 **aaron.dingle:** still a no.

 **adam.barton:** fine… but give us a shout if you change ya mind. yeah?

 **aaron.dingle:** k.

He exits out and pulls up his pitch document when something moves past him and he sees that it’s a returning Robert. He sighs inwardly, but his frustration sees it actually reach his lips and capture Robert’s attention as he gently places his coffee on the desk in front of him.

“Everything alright?” Robert asks, observant as ever.

Aaron nods, mumbling, “Yeah. It’s just my mate. Adam.”

 _He’s being an idiot again_.

“Oh. Adam Barton?” Robert recalls, a note of growing interest in his voice.

Aaron nods again, this time adding, “Uh, yeah. He writes for the Sports Section.”

“Vic was telling me about him,” Robert says, a gentle smile on his face as he thinks about his sister. “She met him at the party last night. Said you might have introduced them?”

Aaron blinks in surprise, momentarily surprised — and made a little nervous — by the idea of Robert and his sister already having discussed Adam, as well as _his_ little setup. He feels his cheeks growing warmer at the thought, as he nods again, increasingly unsure of how the man in front of him feels about that move on his part.

“Was just bein’ polite is all,” he explains, eyes studying Robert’s face for any hint of disapproval on his friend’s behalf. 

But all he gets from Robert is a pair of eyebrows raised in surprise as his mouth forms a cheeky smile. “So it actually _doesn’t_ kill you to be polite.”

Aaron just gives him a pointed look, which only makes Robert’s smile wider.

However, a second later it softens considerably as he says, “Well thanks for that. She said they really hit off last night. I haven’t seen her this excited about someone for a while.”

Aaron feels a pang of guilt strike through him as he thinks of Adam and what he’d said about both Vic and Sophie. But he holds his tongue and nods anyway, simply adding, “Yeah, she seems really nice.”

“She is,” Robert agrees, his eyes growing fond as his smile grows more affectionate. It’s the softest expression on him that Aaron has seen yet, and he finds that his plans for Robert’s murder slowly start to disintegrate…

But then Robert reaches for his latte and takes a sip, leaving a small bit of foam on his lip, which his tongue darts out to lick away only seconds later.

Once again, Aaron finds his mouth running dry, only now accompanied by that same feeling of _lust_ from the day before.

He immediately forces his eyes to try and focus on the work in front of him instead, a continued attempt to prepare for that ever-nearing meeting with Jai.

And for a few minutes, it seems to work. His fingers fly across the keyboard as he tunes out the world and types out his ideas for future music coverage at the paper.

It’s as he’s taking a moment to read over what he’s written that he hears it again…

That same hummed chorus of “Cut to the Feeling,” only now accompanied by the telltale drumming of impatient fingers.

Aaron starts rebuilding his case for murder. 

:::::

The meeting with Jai starts going downhill quickly, as the editor in chief begins with outlining what isn’t working about not just the Entertainment section, but the Music side in particular. And with each bit of data and reader statistic Jai highlights, Aaron can feel his mood taking a turn for the worse, too annoyed with their general audience and their lack of clicks and subscriptions to really try and reign himself in.

_Not my fault they can’t appreciate good writing. Or have good taste._

The one bit of saving grace comes halfway through, when Jai takes a moment to actually lavish him with some praise for once.

“Look, your reviews are good, and your interviews and profiles are well written,” he begins, indicating one of the printed pages in the packet he’d given him when they’d first started. “But they’re not bringing in the kind of traffic we’re hoping for.”

Aaron lets out a slow breath, before looking up to address Jai. “So, what is bringing in the numbers you’d like?”

That puts a smile on Jai’s face, and he flips to yet another sheet — not that Aaron actually bothers following along, having given up almost minutes into this meeting — where he uses his pen to circle the first line in what looks like a chart of some kind.

“My ranking of local concert venues?” Aaron asks, squinting to make out what it says at the top of some list in smaller-than-usual print.

Jai nods enthusiastically. “Manchester gets _thousands_ of tourists every year, many of whom are music fans. We need to start taking advantage of that.”

“So you basically want me to start writing tourist guides?”

He doesn’t mean for a hint of bitterness to make its way into his voice, but he doesn’t care too much that it does.

Thankfully, Jai picks up on it because he shakes his head. “No, I’m just saying, you need to start thinking more about what readers might really be looking for. Things they’d be more likely to click if they saw it in a social media post. You know, that kind of thing!”

Aaron rolls his eyes. “Like, ‘69 Sexy Songs to Get You in the Mood’?”

He’s definitely joking, but he can see that it sparks something in Jai’s eyes, because moments later he grins.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking!” He says, absolutely delighted by this accidental pitch. “You know, Robert was actually telling me last night that it might be fun for him to collaborate with some of the other sections. That way we can start producing newer, more share-friendly stories.”

Aaron sighs, nodding along reluctantly.

“Yeah, he mentioned something like that,” he mumbles half-heartedly. Because technically it is true, he’s only been talking about them collaborating from the moment they’d met.

“Great,” Jai says, as if finalising something. “That’ll be your next big story for the site. You can both work on it together.”

Aaron thinks of that smarmy smile looking at him from across their workspace and having to work closely with it for what will probably be most of this week.

_Fuck._

:::::

 

He doesn’t head straight back to his desk, not looking forward to telling Robert this latest piece of news. Instead, Aaron heads straight to the men’s washrooms, letting out a deep sigh as he leans against one of the sinks.

He’d come in with a few ideas he’d been really excited about, including one that would let him broach that _one_ pitch, the one he’s been hatching and detailing in secret for much of this last year, waiting for the right time to present it to his editors, to Jai.

But after hearing what was essentially Robert’s pitch, Jai had started spitballing ideas for similar stories they could do, all of which he’d managed to get shut down or put on hold temporarily — at least until they can be sure that this one will do well. 

That leaves Aaron with the task of telling Robert, another thing he’d managed to talk Jai into letting him do, not wanting Robert to think he just went around poaching ideas and pitching them. But as it stands now, he’s not at all sure of how to do that.

How are you supposed to walk up to your co-worker and say, “Hey remember that joke pitch you made a few hours ago when you were getting on my nerves? Well, I sarcastically mentioned it during my meeting with our editor and now we’ve been assigned it. Surprise!”

 _You could say it like that,_ his brain points out. But somehow there’s an additional sting to it. He’d meant what he’d told Robert yesterday, what’s the point of staying at a job where they don’t keep you if your work is good?

Only now, when it comes down to it, he’s finding that he doesn’t want to walk away from what is essentially his dream job — not when his quality of work is not to blame.

 _Besides_ , he reminds himself, _you almost did that before_.

And it had been a mistake then too. Only in that case he’d been too young to know it, and lucky enough to not have done anything too final.

He looks up at himself in the mirror, blue eyes gazing back at him, taking in his well-groomed beard and barely-gelled hair. He ignores the glum expression resting on his lips, instead focusing on the steely glint in his eyes.

Because _yes_ , he’s going to both tell Robert about the story they’ll be working on _and_ he’s actually going to work on it with him as Jai had instructed. Because as much as the nature of the news business is changing, Aaron Dingle isn’t ready to say goodbye to his job, or his dreams for his career — handsome, blonde idiots who distract him while stretching and drinking coffee be damned.

He gives himself a determined nod, and storms back to his desk.

:::::

He returns to his desk to find Robert’s _bum_  directly in his face, the tight fit of his jeans only emphasising the view.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He says, after what feels like an entire age of shocked staring and even quieter admiration. (He _is_ human after all _._ )

At the sound of his words, Robert crawls back out from under it and turns to face him, a jovial, if somewhat apologetic smile on his face.

“Sorry about that,” he says, gesturing at a white wire that’s sticking out from under the desk. “Needed to get my charger connected, but the extension cord is blocked on my side. Thought I could plug it in on your side, and run it over to my desk much easier this way.”

The apology fades from his freckled face as he adds playfully, “Hope you don’t mind. Gave me a chance to poke around a little more.”

_I do mind. I mind very much._

But somehow all he can seem to manage is a less-than-grumpy, “Find anything interesting?”

Robert continues smiling. “You could say that.”

He takes one step closer. “But I guess that remains to be seen.”

He raises his eyebrows at Aaron suggestively, but as the blood rushes to both his face _and_ his groin, he quickly blurts out, “Jai has an assignment for us.”

“Oh yeah?” Robert asks, more than delighted by this turn of events. “What is it?”

Aaron swallows nervously. “Your idea for ‘69 Songs to Get You In the Mood.’ He wants a full gallery and a playlist.”

Robert beams at that, before slowly narrowing his eyes in consideration. “And what brought about that little suggestion?”

There’s no venom or suspicion in his voice. Just light curiosity.

Aaron shrugs, going with the truth. “Made a joke. He didn’t quite get it.”

For a second it seems like the light dims in Robert’s eyes, but it quickly passes, with him seeming like he’s bounced back. “So, when’s the deadline?”

“First thing next week,” Aaron explains. “Wanted to give us some time to finish up whatever we’re workin’ on now.”

 _Like your_ _first column_.

As much as he hates himself, it does sting a little that a relative newcomer like Robert is getting the kind of clout and marketing push that Aaron and his stories never seem to be afforded, but he quickly reminds himself that any amount of new readers will only be beneficial in the long run. Especially if it brings them to the music section.

“Great,” Robert replies, grinning and taking a step back. “That gives us plenty of time to… discuss the assignment.”

Despite the little bit of added distance between them, Aaron feels as if Robert were still there, standing in his space and flooding his senses with the additional smell of sweat and alcohol — much more in line with his imagination. The result is his heart rate steadily increasing once more.

“We can talk about it over drinks,” Robert suggests. His voice drops a little lower as he asks, “You free tonight?”

Aaron knows he should probably say yes. He knows that. But he just shakes his head _no,_ instead.

“Got plans,” he manages as stoically as he can; an attempt to keep things as professional as possible. “Guess we’ll just have to book a conference room for tomorrow or something.”

Robert nods, but the smile doesn’t leave his face.

“... or something,” he repeats, bordering on suggestive as he walks back to his side of the desk, Aaron’s eyes still glued to the back of his jeans. It’s only when he turns to look back at up him, that Aaron is able to finally avert his eyes.

He knows what he’d just heard had sounded like a threat of sorts, but he can’t seem to stop himself from feeling excited.

:::::

 **aaron.dingle:** sophie’s brother still up for a drink tonight?

 **adam.barton:** he should be, but i can check!!!

 **adam.barton:** what changed ya mind? was it… the BOYFRIEND???

 **aaron.dingle:** no. just realised you were right. time to get out there and start dating and stuff.

_And I might be over-fantasising about my new deskmate because I haven’t had sex in a while._

Aaron’s eyes flicker to Robert, who’s now, thankfully, quietly tapping away on his laptop, and he toys with telling his friend the truth.

But as it would appear, he doesn’t have to.

 **adam.barton:** just kiddin mate. im well chuffed for ya. i know it’s not easy after what happened with ed and all that. but you deserve to find someone. or at least shag a few someones first. ;)

 **aaron.dingle:** like you are with sophie and victoria?

 **adam.barton:** i told ya! it’s nothin like that! none of us are exclusive yet!

 **adam.barton:** ooh sophie just texted. looks like nick is in as well!

 **aaron.dingle:** great. tell him: Common Wealth at 7:00PM.

As an amused laugh makes its way to his ears a few moments later, Aaron decides with a kind of focused determination, that _yes_ , a date is exactly what he needs right now.

:::::

Nick seems as nice as his sister, and they make pleasant enough small talk — the weather, the music, how long they’ve both lived in Manchester and what brought them there — before he goes off to get them each a drink.

As he waits, Aaron pulls out his phone, making good on his promise to text Adam an update once the date was officially underway. ( _“Just in case you need a backup plan mate!”_ )

He hits SEND a few seconds before the notification comes in.

_Adam Barton and 144 others liked Robert Sugden’s tweet._

Aaron shakes his head and locks his phone, perfectly content not to see what Robert has been up to today.

Only, as he soon discovers, he actually isn’t.

Because now there’s a little spark of curiosity burning in him, a desire to see what it is Robert might be saying. (And the irony that this comes after a full day of doing his best to avoid just that is not lost on him.)

He looks up at the bar. Nick is still waiting, and doing his best to flag down one of the two very busy bartenders. Aaron’s a little surprised, seeing as how he's actually quite attractive in a sit-up-and-take-notice kind of way — not that either bartender has really observed as such so far. But he supposes that’s actually better. Sometimes it’s more attractive when a man isn’t fully aware of how good he looks.

_Like Robert._

Even that brief aside of sarcasm stokes the fire that’s quickly growing inside him, roping in his current feelings of boredom as well. It isn’t long before he decides to take the plunge, unlocking his phone and pulling up Robert’s Twitter profile within moments.

And there it is. His latest “update.”

Aaron taps on the tweet, to see what is clearly picture of Robert’s brown leather shoe-clad feet, crossed at the ankle, up on his still-empty desk from earlier in the day — no doubt a little after Aaron had left, some time just before sunset — with his laptop resting in his lap, a perfect picture of relaxation… 

… that also happens to frame Robert’s crotch and make it the focus of the entire picture. 

He scrolls up slightly to read the caption. 

 **@RobertSugden:** Working hard or hardly working? ;)

As he taps out and is about to scroll away, he sees that the paper’s official account has not only liked the tweet, but that they’ve _retweeted_ it — even joking about when his first column might be due.

The flame within him goes from a casual flicker to a full-on roar, his annoyance rising to the fore.

 _Of course. It’s not like Robert Sugden has to worry about_ his _job._

He’s still working his way up to fuming when Nick returns with their beers. Aaron immediately grabs his and takes a swig, needing something cool to put out at least part of this burning annoyance.

“Everything okay?” Nick asks, concern in his voice. 

“Uh yeah,” Aaron lies, before admitting a few seconds later, “Just someone at work.”

“Oh yeah?” Nick asks, leaning in with interest. “What’d they do?”

He can tell that Nick’s just looking for some light conversation, maybe some mutual lamentation about an annoying colleague, but Aaron can’t seem to help himself. He needs to vent about this now, and unfortunately, Adam isn’t here to fulfil his usual best friend duties. If anything, he even _liked_ that incriminating piece of evidence.

 _Traitor_ , Aaron thinks, even though he’s aware it’s his friend’s way of sucking up to the girl he likes’ brother.

“It’s more like what he can’t do,” he grumbles, barely trying to keep his list of grievances contained the longer he thinks about his new colleague and the way that he’s managed to get even his best friend onside. “Which is shut up, sit still, and do his job. It’s like he can’t stop constantly moving, or talking, or even just _touching_ other people’s stuff without their permission. It’s annoyin’.”

He feels his cheeks heat up as he remembers the way that Robert had stretched that morning, a kind of careless abandon in his actions that Aaron’s never had the privilege of feeling even once at this job. What’s worse, was that he’d found it _attractive_. 

“That sounds… rough?” Nick offers politely, giving him a sympathetic nod.

With his initial thoughts spilt, he finds that he can’t hold the rest of his annoyances in any more.

“And it’s not even like he’s a _good_ writer!” Aaron half-yells, before lowering his volume somewhat at the sight of Nick’s flinch. “I mean, yeah, he can be funny. And yeah, his pieces do really well online and stuff… Like really well. But that’s only because people just want dirty details about other people’s sex lives. Not, you know, actual good reporting.” 

He doesn’t register Nick’s sympathetic nod as he continues, “And don’t even get me started on how _smug_ he is. It’s like he thinks he’s God’s gift to humanity or somethin’, with that dumb leather jacket, and that poncy Tea Tree shampoo and all those annoying ‘story pitches’ he should just keep to himself. Yeah, we get it, you have a lot of sex!” 

Nick chuckles at that.

“What?” Aaron fires, grumpy at being interrupted.

“Well,” Nick says, with a slightly hesitant pause. “You kind of sound like you _fancy_ him more than you hate him.”

His words are a cold shower to the heat that’s been building in Aaron’s face.

_What?_

“Please, I think I have better taste than _Robert Sugden_ ,” he retorts, followed by an angry gulp of his drink.

And if he’d thought Nick’s previous comment was bad, the next one is a thousand times worse.

“Oh! Robert Sugden?” He checks, a big excited smile on his face. “I love that guy!”

Aaron blinks at him in disbelief. Not that Nick notices as he starts to gush about Robert. “I mean, him coming out like he did? It’s quite brave. I don't think I could do it. You know, be that open about my sexuality online.”

He sighs and downs the rest of his drink. He has a long night ahead of him. 

:::::

Things only go downhill from there, with Aaron becoming more sullen and snappish as the date goes on. Not even the steady supply of drinks doing much to lift his spirits. Eventually, even Nick’s confused politeness wears thin and he makes up some kind of vague excuse to cut their night short. 

 _Finally_.

As he watches him disappear into the crowd, Aaron can’t be more relieved that this failed experiment has come to an end — even though he knows he’ll be on the receiving end of some sharp words from Adam tomorrow. After all, in a way, tonight was the long-awaited culmination of months, if not years, of cajoling him to dip his toe in the choppy waters of the dating pool again. Only now, that particular ship has been completely sunk by even the _thought_ of Robert Sugden.

Aaron sighs into what is now his fourth beer of the night. He’d known this wasn’t a good idea even as he’d told Adam that he would be going along with it. But then again, he’d just been faced with Robert’s arse in his face (and all the unwanted feelings of desire it had started to inspire) and he’d wanted nothing more than to scratch the itch Robert has been causing under his skin for all of the two days Aaron has now known him; putting an end to it once and for all.

_Only that’s not what happened, is it?_

_No_ , in his newfound impetus to dive into dating, he’d wound up rudely pushing someone away, and possibly ruining his best friend’s chance at a relationship with their sister. He thinks of the disappointment in Nick’s face as he bid him goodbye and winces inwardly. Maybe he can call Sophie and apologise on Adam’s behalf?

Another sip later and he’s faced with an almost empty bottle, which prompts him to make another trip to the bar. If he’s going to drink away both the slowly resurfacing memories he’s trying to bury again _and_ his newly blossoming guilt, he’s going to need a lot more alcohol.

In a burst of luck, he scores a spot at the counter, but like his date before him, he finds it a little hard to get the busy bartenders’ attention. (Not that his current outfit is helping any. He hadn’t really made an effort to go home and get changed. Which probably hadn’t helped matters with Nick.)

After what feels like millennia of waiting, he contemplates just calling it a day and going home for the night. But when he turns to leave, he finds himself gazing into a pair of familiar green-blue eyes, only now a little more green than blue, in the bar’s warm indoor lighting. It’s accompanied by that same shit-eating smile his mind can’t seem to shake — but what seems like a smaller, more Aaron-specific version of it. 

_Robert._

Aaron stands there, looking up at Robert, just blinking in stunned silence.

_What is he doing here?_

Almost instantly he becomes aware of how close Robert is standing, the crowd of people waiting to order their drinks causing the two of them to be pressed up against each other, with the wooden bar behind him faintly jutting into his back. (Though based on his recent experience, Aaron knows for a fact that Robert has almost no problem invading other people’s personal space.)

“Fancy meeting you here,” Robert greets him lightly, his eyes on Aaron’s face the entire time. He pauses for half a second before playfully adding, “Mr. _Dingle_.”

Aaron fights to keep a straight face despite the shiver that runs up his spine at the sound of his last name passing through Robert’s lips. But soon enough that gives way to the rising wave of annoyance that’s sweeping through him at being unable to escape this man even here in his favourite bar.

“Just thought I’d have a drink,” he finally replies, keeping his eyes trained on Robert’s face as well. He’s surprised to find Robert’s smile widen.

“Great,” Robert says, lightly lobbing the word in his direction, as he raises his arm up to signal the bartender. “What can I get you?”

Aaron follows his gaze, turning so he can smugly watch Robert get ignored as well. However, all he finds is the perky young blonde he’d been trying to catch the attention of smiling in their direction.

“One old-fashioned,” Robert says easily, his smooth voice filling Aaron’s ear as he inches that little bit closer. “And whatever _he’s_ having.”

When the young woman turns to look at him, he opens his mouth to turn down Robert’s offer, only all that tumbles out is a grumpy, “I’ll have another beer.”

She smiles and nods and goes off to get them what they asked for.

When Aaron turns back to look at Robert, he’s gazing at him thoughtfully.

“What?” He practically grunts, his cheeks growing warm with discomfort.

“Never took you for someone who drinks alone,” Robert answers casually, brushing his rudeness aside like it doesn’t exist — or rather, as if a part of him enjoys it. “Something happen to those plans of yours?”

 _Oh. So_ that’s _what this is about._

Aaron debates not telling him. After all, it really is none of his business. But somehow something inside him can’t stand the idea of Robert Sugden thinking he’s some kind of lying, lone drinking loser.

“Was on a date,” he admits, his hands sliding into his hoodie pockets as he glances away. “It ended.”

He keeps his eyes trained away, not wanting to be faced with another cocky grin — or worse, knowing eyes. Because there’s nothing that would hurt more right now than to be judged by _Robert fucking Sugden_. But after a few seconds of staring at nothing in particular, he finds himself drawn back to Robert’s face, where he’s greeted with a sympathetic smile and a hint of something he can’t name in his eyes.

“Sounds like you could really use that drink,” Robert tells him warmly, before stepping a tiny bit closer.

Any thoughts he’d housed in his brain previously, fly out the window as Aaron’s heart starts jackhammering, Robert’s face slowly nearing his as he leans forward, his left hand brushing up against Aaron’s right arm, fingertips gliding over the cotton of his hoodie and making the hair under it stand on end…

Aaron swallows, finding it a little hard to breathe…

… until Robert’s hand suddenly veers off at his upper arm, reaching past Aaron as his eyes also pull away to a spot behind him. Aaron takes that moment to try and get his breathing and his heartbeat under control.

Thankfully, Robert doesn’t seem to have noticed. He pulls back a second later, with a bottle of beer that he holds out to Aaron.

He glances down at Robert’s hand, seemingly gazing at it for what feels like ever before bringing his own hand up to take it from him. Their fingers touch for a few seconds during the handoff and a jolt of energy runs through him bringing with it a feeling of… _excitement_?

If Aaron’s cheeks were warm before, they feel on fire now. He’d forgotten almost forgotten what this could be like.

He swallows, and wraps his fingers around the bottle, comfortably taking it from Robert, who hasn’t seemed to notice anything at all. Grateful, Aaron pushes past him, his shoulder rubbing up against Robert’s chest, hoodie meeting leather jacket because _of course_ Robert hadn’t gone home and changed either.

Aaron tries to convert some of his feelings into annoyance, but his heart is beating too fast for that. He takes a sip of his drink as he approaches one of the few free-standing tables toward the side near a rapidly growing crowd of people in an effort to slow it down — and put some distance between them.

It does not work.

He’s joined a few moments later by Robert, who actually has the audacity to not only look amused by the whole thing, but also ignore social convention and stand fairly close to him, only a few inches between their arms as they both gather on one side of this narrow but tall circular table.

Aaron takes another sip, hoping that that will help calm his speeding pulse. The silence between them slowly spins outward, amplified by the babble of voices around them and the distant thumps of the music playing overhead — not that it bothers Robert. He just swirls his drink and lightly sips from it, before placing it on the table between them in order to prevent any of it getting spilled by the movements of the many people attempting to jostle past their backs.

“So, a date, huh?” Robert after a few seconds have passed, and a third person has bumped into Aaron’s shoulder.

“What?” Aaron grunts, his blood still pounding in his ears. What is it about _this_ man that has this kind of effect on him?

“Your date,” Robert offers again, his voice now a little louder, even though he’s standing so near. “What went wrong?”

For a moment Aaron’s alcohol-loosened tongue almost blurts out, _You_.

But instead, he settles for his nicest, “Why? What’s it got to do with you?”

“I’m just taking an interest,” Robert says, as if Aaron’s accused him of attempting to steal his car. However, that momentary defensiveness gives way to something _else_ : another cocky grin. “Who knows, maybe I can wingman for you… I have a feeling we’d make a good team.”

_Again, with this team stuff._

Aaron glares at him. “No thanks, _mate_. I’m not interested in becoming research for your latest ‘failed dates’ article.”

He watches as Robert goes from puzzled to affronted.

“What? No. That’s not-” He pauses in the middle of his flurried defence to give Aaron what appears to be an earnest look. “Aaron, I would never do that.”

Aaron stares at him pointedly, eyebrows raised as he waits for Robert to remember what he’d re-read just two nights ago; an article outlining some of Robert’s worst romantic encounters — some not as politely retold as they could have been, Robert’s words making a borderline mockery of his dates and their inadequacies. A moment later the memory dawns on Robert’s face and he offers Aaron a sheepish grin. “Alright, I would never do that _again_.”

He snorts and shakes his head, before taking a sip.

Once more, a silence settles on them, only this time the track playing is different.

“Didn’t expect to find _you_ in a place like this,” Robert eventually comments, that dumb smile still present on his lips.

The beer must be helping because finally, Aaron’s annoyance is surging to life again. He’s tired of dealing with other people’s assumptions — Nick, Sophie, Adam, Jai — but most of all he’s tired of Robert constantly acting like he knows anything about him.

“Why? Because I don’t _seem_ gay?” He blurts out, bristling at the implied undertone in Robert’s voice.

He watches carefully as Robert’s eyebrows shoot up, the reaction as bad as most others he gets. He doesn’t know why but that disappoints him. Like Robert was given a test and failed.

“Uh, no,” Robert replies, clearing his throat, and bringing himself to stare at the glass in his hand. “Because the music’s terrible. I thought you’d have picked somewhere better. That’s all.”

_Oh._

Robert says the last part so matter-of-factly. Like Aaron hasn’t just confessed his biggest secret. Like people come out to him all the time. But then again, what did he expect? This is a man who regularly writes about one of the most intimate things you can do with another person, often with jokes or in the form of a _listicle_.

_Top 10 Times Some Gay Bloke Randomly Came Out To Me_

His cheeks are heating up again — this time from alcohol-fueled embarrassment, when he sees Robert look back up at him, his eyes meeting Aaron’s own.

“Do you often feel like that?” Robert asks, his voice inexplicably kind for some reason. “Like you don’t seem gay enough?”

Of all the responses Aaron had been expecting — each of them as rude and smug as the other — this isn’t one of them. Instantly, his defences shoot up, burying the twinge of guilt deep within him.

“What’s it to you?” He questions back, eyeing Robert’s face suspiciously.

“Just that it doesn’t seem like a very fun way to live,” Robert replies with an honest shrug.

Aaron snorts, unimpressed and disbelieving of his answer. “Oh and you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Robert questions, turning towards Aaron, his brow furrowing as he works out what it is that he’s implied.

“That’s all _you_ do though, isn’t it?” Aaron continues, even as he feels Robert’s gaze centre on him. “Sleep around with people, write stuff about it, and then call it ‘journalism’! Well, guess what? Not all of us can afford to do that. Not all of us can be out and proud, like _you_.” 

“Oh, don’t hold back,” Robert replies sardonically. “Tell me how you really feel about me.”

Robert’s voice and words may seem like he doesn’t care. But there’s a flash of something in his eyes — now back to being blue — before it’s replaced by the cool steel of _challenge_.

Aaron bites his lip, unsure of whether he should say what he’s been thinking these last couple of years. Because he’s pretty sure he might end up confessing something he might regret.

Only now, looking over at Robert’s face, he sees traces of an earnestness he’d spotted in him the night before, the kind that had made him seem young and boyish, like someone who can be trusted. He supplements it with an encouraging nod and a somewhat pained, “Go on. I’m… all ears.”

Aaron’s mind fills with memories of Robert’s kindness from just a few moments back, and he decides that maybe he’ll try and return this unwanted favour by attempting to fix things between them after all. So he sighs, getting ready to take back his words and apologise — something he’d never thought he’d be doing to Robert _flipping_ Sugden.

And then he hears a telltale _b_ _ing_. And something on the table vibrates with a loud buzz.

Robert’s phone.

In the space between the first notification and the second, Robert’s eyes are already travelling to the device as he clearly contemplates answering, a _smile_ on his face, like he’s been expecting to hear from someone and they’ve finally replied.

_Probably that model from last night._

Aaron feels something shudder in his chest, the falling realisation that whatever he was going to say next would never matter to this other man. Because he’s just some placeholder until this other person gets here. 

And just like that, he doesn’t feel like holding himself back any more. So he lets his mouth take off; a runaway train spurred on by the bad combination that is drinking and thinking too hard about the many annoying facets of Robert Sugden’s smile. (Not to mention the popped bubble of hurt spreading through his chest.)

“I cannot _believe_ ya,” Aaron exclaims, shaking his head as he turns to face Robert. In his rapidly growing annoyance he doesn’t notice that he takes a step forward, bringing them that little bit closer again. Robert looks over at him, his phone forgotten on the table once more.

“You know, you actually have a chance, to do something big, something important, and all you want to do is write these lame articles on which songs are the sexiest, or which sex position is best or whatever,” Aaron says, his mind drifting back to his meeting with Jai, and that email still sitting in his drafts. It makes something in him _burn_. His voice grows louder and more inflamed. “Why don’t you, for once in your life, just try and do something real with all that influence. Something that matters. Because then maybe you might actually be able to help someone, instead of just giving people something to gossip about or skim while they’re sitting on the bog.”

He looks down at the beer in his hand, and then back up to Robert’s face. “You expect people to just trust you with things about their lives. But you never really give us a reason why. All anyone really knows about ya is that you’re a) bisexual and b) Jack Sugden’s son.”

A stranger nudges past him, and all of a sudden Aaron finds himself pressed up against Robert, his shoulders tensing as his eyes travelling up the hint of collarbone peeking through that blasted white shirt, and past the faint splatter of freckles dotting that stretch of neck and chiselled jaw, straight toward a pair of stormy blue eyes that meet his own unblinkingly. He fixes Robert with a firm look, as he lowers his voice just a _fraction_ , his mouth now closer to his ear anyway.

“I mean, right now, _I_ can hardly trust ya. And I actually work with ya.”

He lets his words hang in the air, as he lets out a deep breath, the air from his slightly-panting lungs making Robert’s shirt collar flutter.

While he’d avoided studying Robert’s reaction too closely as he’d been speaking, it’s all he can do now. So Aaron’s stares and looks for even the tiniest hints of feeling.

Unfortunately, Robert’s gaze is now fixed on the table, his fingers wrapped around his glass. But the expression on his face is that of someone who’s been confronted with the truth — only to discover that they do not like it.

Aaron doesn’t know why, but it makes him feel bad. What he’d said was a lot to unleash on someone who’d been nice enough to buy him a drink and offer to listen as he’d talked. But he stops himself before he starts feeling _too_ bad for Robert Sugden.

Unsure what to do, he finishes off the rest of his beer, hoping it’ll be enough to make a getaway.

Before he can voice that though, Robert’s already speaking. “Thanks for the honesty.”

He doesn’t sound bitter.

Or hurt.

Just… perfectly neutral.

It’s strange. Even though Aaron’s only known Robert in person for only a brief period of time, he knows this isn’t the norm for him. After all, the man has built practically his entire reputation and social media following on the back of his smart comebacks and witty social commentary (which even Aaron has had to admit is clever at times). This momentary speechlessness is terribly disconcerting.

Still, he shrugs and offers, “You did say, ‘Tell you how I feel.’”

Another person attempting to squeeze by pushes them closer together. Aaron finds his eyes slowly moving to Robert’s lips, just in time to see his pink tongue wet them.

A beat passes between them.

“Guess I’ll have to watch my words more carefully from now on,” Robert tells him, just the faintest hint of teasing in his voice now.

It wraps around Aaron’s heart and tugs at it frantically, unwilling to go away despite his best attempts. So he meets Robert’s eyes, offers him a weak smile and simply nods, unsure what he can say next.

Thankfully, Aaron’s saved by his phone vibrating frantically.

“I should get this,” he explains, despite seeing that it’s Adam (no doubt calling him to yell at him after tonight’s debacle).

Robert nods at him, accepting his excuse, with what seems like a ghost of a smile, even though it looks exactly the same as the others he keeps sporting.

“Uh, thanks for the drink,” Aaron says, letting his drunken mouth just aimlessly fill the silence between them. “And, uh, see you tomorrow.”

“You too,” Robert replies, his words clipped, without any trace of feeling.

Aaron moves to go past him as part of his exit, but despite Robert’s manoeuvring to make room for him to do so, he ends up brushing up against him even more; his chest against Robert’s arm and shoulder, again.

The intermingling sensations of guilt and attraction almost make him consider staying for another drink… 

_Almost._

But instead, he slides ANSWER on his still-vibrating phone and puts it to his ear, ready to accept his punishment for all his actions up to now.

“Hey. Adam.”

:::::

The next day when he heads straight to his desk on account of the suddenly cancelled morning edit meeting, he finds Robert’s chair empty again for the second time in a row. And while he’s filled with a momentary swell of relief, he forces himself to remember that Robert may well just be coming in late again, which means he still has that bit of awkwardness that is their first shared conversation of the day to look forward to.

_Should’ve asked to work from home._

He sighs and opens up his laptop, going through his list of proposed pitches again. He still doesn’t have any clue of what it is Lawrence and Chrissie might be looking for from him in their meeting this afternoon. All he does know is that he won’t be pitching them any of the things Jai’d thrown at him. Which is why he needs to come up with new ideas, fast.

But until then, he has more urgent day-to-day matters to care of in regards to producing stories for the newspaper’s upcoming issues. So he gets to work answering emails and setting up any pending album and concert reviews he’d been assigned.

Not wanting to be distracted, he puts his phone on silent, turning it face down on his little stack of CDs, fingers brushing past the Post-It sticking out slightly from the topmost one.

:::::

He’s in the middle of transcribing an interview when chat window pops up on screen.

 **adam.barton:** SO? what do you think???!!!

 **aaron.dingle:** think of what?

 **adam.barton:** robert’s story!!! i’ve only been messaging you about it for an hour.

 **aaron.dingle:** oh. sorry. had my phone on silent. tryin to get some work done.

 **aaron.dingle:** why? what’s he on about THIS time?

_adam.barton is typing…_

He doesn’t know why, but his stomach has now turn home to a million fluttering nerves, each slowly tumbling into a pit of anxiety that’s starting to form.

_Top 10 Things My Closeted Co-Worker Told Me He Thinks About Me_

It’s only mildly assuaged by Adam’s response appearing across his screen.

 **adam.barton:** here. read for yourself.

Aaron swallows nervously…

...and clicks. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert and Aaron go to a concert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended Listening: 'Think of England' by Bear's Den

**CHAPTER THREE**  

**BI-CURIOUS & QUESTIONINGS **

 

**_Top 10 Tips for Better Sex_ **

_by Robert Sugden_

 

Want to know a secret?

There’s only one tip you need to start having great sex.

No, not that one. (Trust me, I know plenty of lesbians who’ll tell you it’s not necessary, and enough gay men who’ll tell you two is better than one.)

No. The only real trick you need to master in the bedroom is knowing who you are — and what it is you want.

Because as someone recently reminded me, not everyone is free to be out and proud all the time. Not everyone is free to love whoever they want, or just simply be themselves.

And even though I technically was, I didn’t know that.

At least not at first. 

I was 15 when I had my first real crush. I’d fancied people before then, mostly girls, with a few boys here and there. But he was the first one that mattered.

He worked at his family’s cafe in the village near where we grew up, and he was around the same age as me. I used to say I was going down there to do my homework and hang out with my dad while he was writing — which _is_ how it started — but really, I was only doing it so I could sit around and watch him make coffee all afternoon. Eventually, he figured out that I was interested in more than just a daily Americano and lucky for me, so was he.

That’s how it began.

We’d meet behind the trash bins after the end of his shift. Sometimes we’d talk and joke around, but mostly we’d kiss. It might have been the happiest I’d ever felt back then. But one day, while we were otherwise distracted, his dad walked out and saw us. Before we could say or do anything I was told to leave. And because I was a scared teenage boy afraid of angering his sort of boyfriend’s father, I did.

The next day when I came back to see him, he was gone. Sent away overnight to live with some uncle or aunt in Madrid. His dad still served us — probably didn’t want to lose his best customers — but he never looked me in the eye again. I didn’t think it was possible to feel any more ashamed of myself than I did in that moment, but it was. Because that was when the guilt started. _I_ was the reason he was sent away.

Me.

Later, my mum found me crying in my room about it, and even though I never really told her, I think she might have known. Because that day she told me that everyone deserves to love, and _be_ loved, by whoever they want, and to not care what anyone else thinks — not that I really listened to her.

Which heartbroken teenager would?

Instead, I kept trying to ignore that other side of me. And for the better part of the next 10 years, I was mostly able to. After all, I was still attracted to women, wasn’t I? Like I’d always been. So I focused on that. Focused on doing everything I could to avoid feeling that kind of self-hating shame ever again. Because it was wrong for me to feel the same for a man as I did for a woman, wasn’t it? What kind of person likes both? And how can that be normal?

For a while, I was convinced that maybe all I’d really wanted was sex. So I just kept dating and sleeping with women, even falling for one enough to want to marry her. But we didn’t work out. Because in many ways she didn’t know the real me, and I wasn’t about to let her. (Not to mention, there was a whole _other_ set of issues. But that’s for another day — and another column.)

You see as much as I tried, I was never able to _stop_ noticing men. Not really. And I never stopped thinking about that one lad — the one from all those years ago — and what it had felt like kissing him; what it had felt like, in those moments, to just be wholly myself, without any care about right or wrong.

That’s what finally gave me the courage to go to my first real gay bar, and to kiss another man for the first time in more than a decade. And while I don’t want to kiss and tell (I’ve probably done more than enough of that online already), I will say it was the first time, in a long time, I felt like I wasn’t hiding something. Like I could finally just  _breathe_ — not do those shallow, slightly anxious inhalations I’d been having to do for all those years.

Not long after that, I discovered the term “bisexual” and it felt like my chest exploded. Like I’d pulled back a curtain and discovered a whole other wing to a house I’d been living in all my life. Because suddenly there was a word for what I’d been feeling — not gay, not straight, but in between. And even better, it felt _normal_. Because now, I wasn’t the only one. Because if there were more people out there _like_ me, then it couldn’t be wrong, like I’d come to believe.

I finally felt free to just be me.

All of me.

And I never want it to stop.

After spending years not talking about this part of myself, all I can do anymore is keep talking about it, often as much as I can, as loud as I can. Because I never want to go back to feeling as I did back then. And I don’t want anyone to feel that way now.

Everyone deserves to love, and be loved, by whoever they want, without having to care what other people think.

I understand that now.

So yes. Not _everyone_ can be out and proud all the time. But that’s why _I_ am — unapologetically so, even. Because for a long, _long_ time, I didn’t think I ever could be.

(And trust me, the sex is _a lot_ better now.)

:::::

Aaron exits out of the link and sits there in stunned silence, his eyes a little moist from the prickling of unshed tears.

By the time he comes out of it, and wipes them away, he notices that almost 15 minutes have passed without his doing anything. He looks back at his computer screen, minimising the chat window with Adam, and typing in a new URL into his browser window instead. 

Once on Twitter, Aaron immediately navigates to Robert’s profile, where he spots the post in question, currently pinned to the top of his feed.

 **@RobertSugden:** For my first column for @ManToday, I’ve decided to do something different and earn YOUR trust for a change. Hope you like it.  
  


Aaron’s finger hovers over the trackpad, unsure of what to do next. But as he re-reads Robert’s brief words again, it comes to him.

A shot of courage that guides his next decision.

_Forget about what other people think. Just do it._

Aaron takes a deep breath... and clicks LIKE.

It’s silly, but he can almost _feel_ the ripple effect generated by that little bit of data as it spreads out across the Internet, notifying everyone who may be following him on there.

_Notifying Robert._

Before he can overthink his next couple of actions, his finger moves to the right and he clicks again. He brings his hands up to the keyboard and types, letting the words come from his heart instead of his second-guessing mind for a change. 

He clicks.

 **@AaronDingle:** Some good advice.

_Retweet._

He exhales more fully than he has in a while.

:::::

  
Barely any time has passed when he gets a message from Adam, their chat window wiggling furiously at the bottom of Aaron’s screen as a 1 appears in a little red circle at the corner of the desktop icon. 

He opens it.

 **adam.barton:** MATE!!!

Aaron doesn’t have to click on the link he’s included with the message to know what it is.

 **adam.barton:** what’s with the retweet? i thought we hated him.

 **aaron.dingle:** can’t keep hating him if i have to work with him, can i?

 **aaron.dingle:** besides, it was actually good advice. guess he CAN write when he wants to.

 **adam.barton:** i’m sorry, but did you just give ROBERT SUGDEN a compliment?! hold on while i check to see if hell’s frozen over.

Aaron snorts and shakes his head as he reads his friend’s words. But then the little niggle of steadily building guilt that’s found its way into his gut rears its ugly head and he finds himself expounding on the events that led them here.

 **aaron.dingle:** yeah, well don’t tell anyone, but i’m kind of the reason why he wrote it.

 **adam.barton:** whoa. what do you mean YOU’RE the reason why? did something happen?

Aaron sighs and stares at the screen, unsure of what to say exactly. He finally settles on the truth.

 **aaron.dingle:** ran into him at the bar last night after nick left and he kept makin’ all these jokes and actin’ all smug, like we were mates or somethin. it was annoyin so i kind of just… snapped.

_Also, I told him I was gay and he was actually quite nice about it. But I couldn’t stand it so I yelled at him._

He replays some of last night’s events in his head, including Robert’s smile when he chose to look at his phone while Aaron was trying to be emotionally honest. He frowns at the twinge of _hurt_ in his chest and adds:

 **aaron.dingle:** i mean, he DID ask me what my problem with him was, first.

 **adam.barton:** why are you only tellin me this NOW???

 **adam.barton:** wait. was he with you at the bar last night when i called???

Aaron’s cheeks grow warm as he recalls just how close he and Robert had been standing at the end there, and how firm and _solid_ Robert had felt each time he’d brushed up against him.

He shakes those thoughts out of his head and attempts to respond.

 **aaron.dingle:** yeah. sort of. but it’s not like i knew he’d go off and do somethin like THIS, did i?

 **adam.barton:** guess he must have really listened to ya. explains why he just kind of went rogue last night.

He has to reread his friend’s message a few times before he can respond — something he’s finding happens more and more often when his new deskmate is concerned.

 **aaron.dingle:** what do you mean “went rogue”?

_adam.barton is typing…_

Aaron thinks about the article he just read and feels his stomach sink further and a cold dread creep up his spine as he waits for what feels like an interminable amount of time for his friend to reply.

_adam.barton is typing…_

He considers clicking away and maybe going to get coffee or to refill his water bottle, but he finds that he’s glued to his seat, his emulsifying guilt turning his feet into lead.

_adam.barton is typing…_

Finally, the dots at the bottom of the screen stop moving. But it still takes a few seconds for the message to appear.

 **adam.barton:** you didn’t hear? that’s why the mornin meeting was cancelled. robert wrote and posted that whole piece without consultin jai or any of the other senior editors. heard them talkin about it in jai’s office. they’re really mad seein as they’d wanted to promo the hell out of his first column and everythin. he’s lucky it’s doin so well or i’d reckon he’s not as bullet proof as we thought. even lawrence and chrissie look pissed.

 **aaron.dingle:** robert’s actually here? right now?

 **adam.barton:** yeah. he arrived like an hour ago. but he’s been locked up in a conference room with all of them. i actually feel kind of bad for him. it looks kinda serious.

The churning in Aaron’s gut intensifies, as he thinks of his blurted admission under the influence of dim lights and cool beer, and the kindness in Robert’s voice last night as he’d received his words with understanding eyes and a gentle smile.

But before he can linger on it too long, there’s a swishing sound and another message appears on screen.

 **adam.barton:** hey. since you’re like a robert-whisperer now, do you think you could put in a good word about me? I don’t think he likes me very much, but i know vic really cares what he thinks.

Aaron shakes his head and rolls his eyes at his friend, even as his mouth cracks a smile at Adam’s one track mind. (Not that it does much to assuage his slowly mounting feelings of guilt.)

 **aaron.dingle:** maybe hell really DID freeze over, because for once i actually AGREE with him. his sister’s WAY too good for ya.

 **adam.barton:** ha. ha. very funny. but enough about MY love life, we need to be talkin about YOURS.

 **aaron.dingle:** whoa. robert sugden is NOT part of my “love life.”

 **adam.barton:** actually i meant NICK.

 **adam.barton:** but yeah. you should DEFINITELY apologise to robert. and i’m not just sayin that because of vic. i know what you’re like when you’re actually TRYIN to be rude. so make sure you buy him a drink or somethin later, yeah? Like at least TRY and play nice.

 **aaron.dingle:** can’t. i’ve got that concert preview thing tonight, remember? you’re supposed to come with me.

 **adam.barton:** shit. i kinda already told sophie i’d meet up with her tonight. but tell you waht, why don’t you take robert instead?

 **adam.barton:** think about it! it’ll be PERFECT. what better way to apologise than cheap beer AND good music, eh? he’ll forgive ya in no time.

_aaron.dingle is typing…_

Aaron’s brow furrows as he considers what his friend is suggesting. As dramatically as he’d reacted last night, it hadn’t been all that bad — and it would actually be a nice gesture of goodwill on his part. Especially considering that he and Robert still have an assignment to work on together.

He sighs as he answers.

 **aaron.dingle:** i’ll think about it.

 **aaron.dingle:** anyway, i need to go now. got that pitch meetin with lawrence and chrissie today and i’m not done preppin for it.

 **adam.barton:** aah. okay. good luck mate!

 **adam.barton:** and remember, try not to yell at them yeah? pretty sure that only works on ya BOYFRIEND. ;D

He shakes his head as he closes the chat window.

_aaron.dingle has left the conversation._

:::::

When another hour passes with yet no sign of Robert, he starts to get anxious, the empty chair across from him almost _too_ loud and conspicuous in Robert’s absence.

 _Just like its new owner_.

Aaron would laugh at the irony if he wasn’t so stressed about it.

Instead, he keeps mentally repeating the mantra he’s come up with ever since his little chat with Adam.

 _He hasn’t lost his job because of me_. _He hasn’t lost his job because of me_.

When that doesn’t work, he clicks over to the browser window he’s left open in the background of his screen as he works on his pitches. A quick scan of Robert’s Twitter page shows that he hasn’t tweeted anything or replied or liked any posts since his announcement this morning (including Aaron’s). But perhaps, most importantly, he hasn’t mentioned anything about a change in employment status. 

It’s a small, but mostly cold comfort seeing as he’s been stuck in a meeting all morning.

 _Besides, he would’ve had to come and clear out his desk_ , Aaron’s mind reasons.

It’s funny, but even though Robert has only been working here for a maximum of two days, his desk still features a small number of items that Aaron would definitely qualify as “personal”: a well-loved copy of some old book titled _Home Farm_ , a blue TARDIS mug, a small pile of Yoda-shaped Post-It notes, an assorted collection of ballpoint pens, and a particularly battered black leather-bound Moleskine notebook. (His fingers had itched to rifle through it, but he’d restrained himself in case its owner came back anytime soon, settling for briefly running his fingers across the cover instead.)

 _Maybe he’s avoiding me_ , a louder, less kind part of his brain suggests. _Maybe he hates me and is waitin’ for me to leave before he comes and gets his things so he doesn’t have to talk to me._

As much as he knows _that’s_ not true, he hates that he feels that way. Because he’d been wrong about how much Robert Sugden had really had to lose, hadn’t he?

But then again, it’s not like _he’d_ told him to hit publish on a post to a regional newspaper’s website without going through the proper channels first. No. That had been all Robert’s doing.

This time Aaron _does_ laugh.

Leave it up to Robert Sugden to take the initiative and try to help people for once, only to completely screw it up in the most spectacular way possible by actually risking his new job.

Off the train of that last thought, Aaron’s nerves come flooding back, this time bringing with them the subconscious urge to rapidly bounce his right knee up and down, his limb now a conduit for all his pent up anxious energy.

 _He hasn’t lost his job because of_ me. _He hasn’t lost his job because of_ me.

He refreshes Twitter once again.

No change.

Both tense and relieved, he moves to exit the window, but then his eye catches on Robert’s pinned tweet, or more specifically, the large number of replies to it — one that appears to be growing as more time passes. On a whim, he clicks on it, watching as the post becomes larger on screen. Following his curiosity, he scrolls down to read what other people have written to Robert, a small part of him dreading their possible reactions.

He’s pleasantly surprised when he’s greeted by what seems like an overwhelming cascade of positivity and gratitude.  


**@BiBiBi:** Thank you for posting this!!! I think it quite literally just changed my life. Thank you!!!

 **@EmmaRigby:** This was such a beautiful read. Thank you for sharing something this deeply personal with us. Can’t wait to read what you write next.

 **@ItsGonnaBeGay:** I wasn’t expecting to be dragged so hard, but here we are. Thanks for this mate!

Aaron smiles, genuinely pleased for Robert. After all, _this_ is what he’d always envisioned Robert doing with all the social influence he’d be wielding in his current position; actually helping readers — many of whom appear to be teenagers or questioning adults — by gently guiding them on the journey of exploring their sexualities.

_But that’s probably not going to happen now… Is it?_

He frowns again; trapped in a vicious cycle of his own making.

As he exits out of the replies to Robert’s tweet, he’s surprised to find a notification awaiting him at the top of the page. Rolling his eyes in anticipation of whatever it is Adam might have sent him, or said in response, he clicks on it…

Only to find a different name awaiting him.

_Robert Sugden liked your tweet._

He nervously chews his lip as he re-reads this new development a few a times over.

_Well, shit._

:::::

He determinedly attempts to refocus his attention on his pitch document — having pretty much abandoned his social media stalking upon seeing Robert’s unexpected response — when the man in question arrives at his desk a few minutes later. But as Robert sets his coffee on the table and moves to shrug off his leather jacket, Aaron finds that this time, he can’t stop himself from glancing up and staring at his face; a blatant attempt to read what’s going on in that blonde head of his.

Immediately he notices a kind of change from the last two days. Instead of wearing his usual, cocksure smile, Robert appears distracted, if not mildly troubled by whatever he’d just sat through, no doubt some kind of professional scolding or dressing down. And as much as Aaron’s been rooting for that very thing to happen for _months_ now, he finds that the reality is nowhere near as satisfying as the fantasy. If anything it just makes him feel worse.

_Maybe it’s because he didn’t deserve it this time._

Spurred on by his own anxious thoughts, Aaron clears his throat to get his attention. Only when Robert’s eyes do fall on him, he finds that he doesn’t quite know what to say.

So he attempts a joke, keeping his voice a little sharp and teasing on purpose, hoping to provoke a response.

“Good job. Five minutes earlier than yesterday.”

He tries to accompany his words with a playful smile, but finds that his nerves make him come up short even before Robert’s gaze flies away from his face, like he can’t even bring himself to even _look_ at Aaron.

“Got a bit held up,” He responds awkwardly before taking a seat and switching on his company-issued laptop. But Aaron can hardly hear him over his the nervous pounding of his own heart, his festering guilt speeding up his pulse.

So he just nods, and doesn’t inquire further, not wanting to seem rude or make matters any worse by sticking his nose into something that doesn’t really concern him (except that it kind of does). However, if he didn’t know any better he’d say that Robert is making a concentrated effort to not meet his eyes.

A fresh batch of anxiety rises in the back of his throat, but the stabbing sensation in his gut prevents him from giving up.

He swallows roughly and says, “Sorry. About last night. I shouldn’t have…”

It feels like too much of a lie to walk it all back — especially when he really had meant most of it, something Robert is more than well aware of — so he offers as much of an honest apology as he can.

“... been so harsh. It was only ya first day.”

That gets Robert’s attention, as he looks up sharply, his face a perfect picture of surprise.

“No, you were right,” he replies, acknowledging his apology, but not quite accepting it as Aaron had pictured. “What you said? I needed to hear that.”

Robert looks away for a moment, like he’s thinking, and lets out a rueful chuckle before his eyes (a cloudy mixture of blue _and_ green) return to Aaron’s face, and he adds, “I’ve never really tried to write, have I? Not really… You know, bein’ Jack Sugden’s son and all. But that? That might be the best thing I’ve ever written, and it’s all because of you. So, uh, thank you.”

There’s a note of honesty ringing through in Robert’s voice as he looks over at him, and Aaron realises, perhaps for the first time that day, that maybe Robert isn’t avoiding him because of what he said, but rather what he _might_ _say_. After all, he’s only _just_ laid himself bare online, for the whole world to read and pass judgement on, and then come to work where he’s been chewed out by his bosses for doing so, and now has to spend the rest of his day sitting across from the very person whose words had caused this whole mess in the first place.

A simple retweet isn’t going to cut it.

Neither is the half-baked apology he’d delivered a few seconds earlier.

So he borrows a page from Robert’s own playbook and broaches the subject head on. “Yeah. I, uh, read the column.”

Then, upon remembering Adam’s advice, he softens his voice and adds, “It was good. Well written. I liked it.”

He watches as a smile slowly dawns on Robert’s face at his words, a gentle little thing that hooks the left corner of his lips before spreading more widely; simultaneously taking off years from his face and rendering him boyish and charming — not unlike that first night at the bar.

He feels another unbidden flicker of desire, same as before. It’s followed quickly by a wave of relief as he realises that Robert doesn’t actually hate him like he’d been thinking. The warmth that causes sweeps down to his toes.

“Uh… Thanks,” Robert replies, the sparkle having returned to his eyes (now a lighter aquamarine) as they seem to rest on Aaron’s face, like he can’t believe what he’s just heard. “I guess I was feeling a little… inspired.”

Now it’s Aaron’s turn to blush, his eyes having zoomed in on Robert’s mouth as he’d uttered his last couple of words, his smiling pink lips gently caressing the last word before revealing a flash of pearly white teeth. As Aaron’s cheeks begin to heat up, he forces himself to look upward, meeting and _holding_ Robert’s still-warm gaze as he coolly responds, “Glad I could help.”

This time he definitely follows it up with a teasing half-smile, hoping to convey his joke.

It lands, as surprise dawns in Robert’s eyes. Aaron watches as Robert’s eyes crinkle and his head tips back for another one of his easy, slightly-booming laughs. He’s a few seconds into remembering the light constellation of freckles he’d glimpsed on his neck and jaw the night before, the sight something he’s yet to forget, when he realises that there’s a small smile gracing his own lips.

_Huh._

Before he can really wipe it off his face — something he finds he’s reluctant to do — Robert’s back to looking at him, with what can only be described as unabashed appreciation in his eyes. Aaron feels a flutter in his gut, all the butterflies housed within it transforming into a gently rising balloon…

He swallows nervously, unsure what to make of it. As Adam keeps reminding him, it’s been more than a while since he’s elicited this kind of response from someone else. And it’s been longer still since someone else has elicited this kind of response from _him_.

It feels… nice.

 _Really_ nice.

The kind of nice that makes him think of simply letting go of his preexisting inhibitions and just riding the wave of emotion that Robert Sugden seems to keep causing in him on a near-daily basis.

 _And why not?_ His relief-giddy mind reasons as he continues to bask in his attention attention.

_We’re just two co-workers hangin’ out. That’s all. I’m just bein’ friendly._

So he takes the first step and fights his own rising reluctance, the balloon in his chest expands by whole inches as he sinks into the comfort of the easy banter they seem to have going, his lips widening to match the expression on his co-worker’s face; an expression that grows somewhat dimmer a few seconds later, as if tinged with what Aaron thinks is disbelief…

 _Well you’d be shocked too, if the man who’d yelled at you was now sitting across from and smiling at you_ , Aaron’s brain points out. Somehow, that doesn’t make the balloon pop, only shrink a little, causing him to recall his best friend’s advice yet again.

“You doin’ anythin’ after work?” He blurts out, his brain scrambling to sketch out a plan as it chases after the casual co-worker camaraderie they’d shared just a brief moment ago. “Thought we could maybe get that drink.”

Robert just watches him for a second, his expression inscrutable.

“You sure about that?” He finally asks, clearing his throat a little before adding, in a playful but self-deprecating tone, “Trust me not to write about it, do ya?”

Even as he says it, he seems to tense up, as if expecting another outburst on Aaron’s part. But he just snorts in amusement instead.

“That won’t be a problem,” Aaron answers shaking his head. Noting the questioning look directed at him, he continues, “Seein’ as I’ll be the one doin’ the writin’ this time. We’d be goin’ to a concert. For a preview.”

He can see that it takes a moment for his words to _really_ sink in. But Robert’s eyebrows shoot up, and he excitedly asks, “Are you serious?!”

Aaron smiles and nods, strangely happy to have caused this reaction.

“Figured I’d show you what it is we music writers _really_ do,” he teases lightly, as he notes the delight currently on display on Robert’s face at his news. “Plus, I owe ya a ‘Welcome to the Job and I’m Sorry I Yelled at Ya on Ya First Day’ present.”

_That, and I know you like the band._

He watches as Robert realises that he’s made another joke — this one at his _own_ expense — thus marking that it’s now indeed okay for them to laugh about last night’s events without fear of repercussion on his part. As soon as that understanding hits, Aaron’s graced with a blinding smile and a wry chuckle as Robert quips, “Maybe I should make you yell at me every day.”

“Why? Need some more inspiration?” Aaron fires off his response without even thinking, surprising himself with the almost _flirtatious_ tone in his voice.

He prays that Robert didn’t hear it, attempting to hide it with what he hopes is a challenging look in his eye, just in case. But almost immediately, there’s a flicker of an unnamed _something_ in his gaze, and he just grins at Aaron, who isn’t really all too sure why.

“No,” Robert tells him, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Just thought I’d have to do something colossally stupid to have that happen again.”

“Yeah, well, the day’s still young init?” Aaron responds in what has become his Robert-specific deadpan, eyeing the time on his computer.

When he looks back at him, Robert is smiling and nodding his head in realisation, “‘spose it is.”

And then, as if inspired by Aaron, he looks over at his own screen, at the stark reminder that they both still have jobs to do.

“Guess I better get back to work then,” Robert tells him, his expression fading into apology as he lets out a long sigh. “This next column isn’t going to write itself.”

With one last look at him, Robert looks away, his focus now held by the screen in front of him, even though traces of his previous smile remain.

Aaron sighs in agreement and turns to look at his own computer, his mind once again turning to his incomplete pitch document and the kinds of ideas he’s been racking his brain to come up with…

But he’s taken back out of his thoughts a few moments later when he hears Robert say something else, his voice just barely above a mumble.

“Oh, and Aaron?”

He looks up to find Robert looking at him tentatively, as if a little nervous.

“Mmm?” He asks, his mind still caught on that upcoming meeting.

“I am free,” Robert tells him, before giving him a sheepish smile. “For drinks? Tonight? Just let me know where.”

Aaron swallows, only realising what’s happening when he stops talking, their little exchange having made him almost made him essentially forget his earlier offer — only it would seem that _Robert_ hadn’t.

He nods in understanding, telling him, “Uh, yeah. Message me ya number and I’ll text ya the details.”

“Great.”

He doesn’t need to look at Robert to know that he’s smiling. He just knows — as sure as the one he’s wearing.

_See. Not so bad._

Pleased with his efforts, he clicks and opens a new window.

:::::

By the time he actually does come up with a few more ideas he doesn’t entirely hate or isn’t too bored by, it’s already 15 minutes before the big meeting. So with a resigned sigh, he quickly types up any other stray thoughts that he has and sends the file to the printer, getting to his feet as he collects anything else he might need from his desk, the nerves already starting to gather in his gut. 

Normally pitch meetings are easy, seeing as he knows the subject matter inside out and could come up with ideas for music coverage in his sleep. But there’s something about having to try and appeal to people who don’t entirely care about the growth of a musician’s sound, or an in-depth profile of a band’s creative process, that sticks in his craw and makes his brain feel like it’s run against a brick wall several times.

It’s not that he has anything against lists or rankings per se, he understands the purpose they serve in the world of digital journalism and it’s dogged obsession with clicks and views. Rather it’s the fact that those formats always take something like music, a subject that’s so _vibrant_ and _alive_ , and reduce it to cut and dry facts and figures wherein it’s the numbers that matter and not the words and the medium itself.

He lets out an audible sigh at the thought, once again lamenting the left turn his job — if not the journalism industry at large — has taken, when he feels like someone’s watching him.

Glancing upward, he finds that he’s become the unwitting subject of Robert’s somewhat distant-looking gaze, his wide green-blue eyes blinking at Aaron in confusion as his eyebrows lift in surprise, even as there’s a slight downturn to his lips. He looks a little mentally dishevelled, like he was pulled out of the flow of a particular idea he’d been pursuing and is yet to let it go.

For a second Aaron is stuck with the thought that this is how Robert probably looks upon waking up; eyes heavy-lidded and hair extra-tousled, like he’s been absent-mindedly running his fingers through it repeatedly, in an attempt to get it to calm down. It almost makes him want to reach across the divider between their two desks and have a go himself, his right index finger even _twitching_ with that slight thought.

He bites his lip to still his hand, and almost instantly, there’s a burning in his cheeks and a dryness in his throat as he realises that it’s his actions that have caused this moment of distraction in Robert; that it’s he who’s the inconsiderate workmate today. So he smiles at the still sat down Robert as apologetically as he can, and tells him, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt ya.”

But Robert just purses his lips further and shakes his head in response, his way of signalling that _no, it’s no problem at all_.

A few seconds later, that observant, laser-like focus returns to his eyes and Robert slowly cocks his head to the side, his brows now furrowing as he seems to study Aaron. And then, as if finally finding what he’s been searching for, he smiles, the gesture causing something within him to both tense up _and_ relax a little.

“Guessing you’ve got that meeting with Lawrence and Chrissie now then, eh?” Robert says more than asks, his faith in his own deductive skills seemingly absolute, while his tone remains soft and gentle.

“What gave it away?” Aaron asks, genuinely curious. But his voice comes out soft and rough, causing him to clear his dry throat. His nerves still building, he brings his still-tingling finger to scratch at the itch at the nape of his neck, the rest of his fingers burying themselves in his cut-short curls.

“Well, for starters, you kept shaking your leg,” Robert replies with an indicative nod, his tone remaining warm and gentle, only now with a warm twinkle in his eye.

The shock must show on his face, because Robert quickly adds, “I, uh, could feel it through my desk.”

He flashes Aaron a reassuring smile now accompanied by a pinkish tinge to his cheeks — like he’s afraid what Robert might say in response — but that doesn’t stop Aaron from being consumed by absolute mortification at this new revelation.

_He must think I’m awful._

As another beat of silence passes between them, Robert seems to shift gears, his voice now joking as he lightly asks, “You always get like that when you’re nervous?”

Suddenly Aaron gets why someone might write in to this man sharing all their troubles and seeking advice. There’s something about Robert that makes him easy to talk to. And unlike the previous night, where he’d been mildly annoyed by what he realises now was just genuine concern and friendliness on Robert’s part, Aaron is actually touched. 

And suddenly it’s like a spell is broken, because he finds himself able to speak again.

“Uh, no,” he responds, his bearded cheeks turning red with the memory of his mentally accusing _Robert_ for being so disruptive just yesterday — as well as his one-sided annoyance. “Sometimes I just like to stand up and interrupt my co-workers in the middle of doing something important.

As expected, it takes hardly a second for his small dose of sarcasm to hit, Robert immediately unleashing one of his dry chuckles, the ones that had pricked at Aaron’s focus all of the previous day. Only now he recognises the warm appreciation in them, the sound relaxing him further and putting him more at ease.

His once-lurching stomach now somewhat still, Aaron mumbles another apology, surprisingly eager to inform Robert that he’ll be ceasing his own annoying behaviour poste haste. “Sorry about the leg by the way. It won’t happen again.”

_At least I hope it won’t. But who knows after today?_

He’s surprised to see Robert brush aside his apology like it’s nothing, his shoulders shrugging with nonchalance as he flashes Aaron another smile — this one a little more bashful in its origins.

“Actually, I quite liked it,” Robert admits, his voice quiet like he’s confessing something big. “It’s nice to know that even the great Aaron Dingle can get nervous.”

“Yeah, well… I’m not that great. According to Jai my last single review did terribly,” Aaron replies with a shrug, as he glances down at the building ID pass he keeps flipping over in his hands. “Besides… Everybody gets nervous before a pitch meetin’. It’s normal.”

He says it more as an attempt to convince himself rather than as a well-known fact, something Robert seems to pick up on, because instead of protesting his statement, he just says, “But _you’re_ not ‘everybody.’ Are you?”

Aaron’s eyes immediately fly up to Robert’s face, but it appears that he’s both deathly serious _and_ not done talking.

“Honestly Aaron, you have nothing to be nervous about,” Robert continues, his voice firm and encouraging. “You’re one of the most creative writers I know. Even _one_ of your ideas is better than most of everyone else’s.”

He chuckles, adding, “I know they’re certainly better than mine.”

Aaron finds himself cracking a reluctant smile at that, his ears still warm from the mention of his name, Robert uttering it like it’s the equivalent of an award and a pay raise rolled into one; like he’s a standard of quality everyone must abide by and the idea of no one else doing so is an affront to his personal belief system.

It’s actually quite… touching.

And it’s done wonder for his nerves, which have gone from overwhelming to nonexistent.

His spirit revived, Aaron nods warmly, slowly starting to believe that this might actually go quite well.

“Thanks,” he says, unable to add the _for believing in me_ , the sentiment already too large for a quick chat between co-workers.

But once again, it seems like Robert knows exactly what he’s thinking because he shakes his head like it’s no big thing. “Like I said, I’m a big fan of your work. Wouldn’t be sayin’ any of that if I didn’t mean it.”

Aaron nods once more, understanding completely seeing as it’s a philosophy to which he himself subscribes. Before he can say anything else, the silence is pierced by the sound of the copy machine printing something in the distance.

So he just offers Robert a small smile and a gruff, “I should probably get goin’. Don’t want to be late to a meetin’ on the _same_ floor.”

Robert grins at his self-inflicted sarcasm.

“Good luck,” he nods, warm and encouraging. “Not that you’ll need it.”

For all the times he’s mocked Robert’s seemingly boundless-to-the-point-of-obnoxiousness self-confidence online, Aaron finds himself retracting his own snide remarks, finally recognising the power of having someone else declare something as simple as _him_ being a talented writer like it’s an inarguable fact.

It’s, quite frankly, nothing short of amazing.

Especially with Robert having been a veritable stranger prior to his meeting him just two days before.

 _And online stalked for years_.

Aaron almost blushes. Though based on what Robert’s been saying, it would seem that he himself has been the subject of some not-so-light research himself — not that he minds. He’s never really heard from anyone who’s read _and_ enjoyed his work before. 

He nods back and smiles.

Maybe he _can_ do this.

Confidence boosted, Aaron turns to leave, making his way over to the printer nearest to the conference room where the meeting will be held. He collects his pages from the completed tray and proceeds to skim the words on them as he completes the final leg of his short journey.

Only as he stands outside the meeting room’s doors, he finds himself becoming less and less enthused with his recent ideas, any redeeming qualities he’d seen in them fading back into nothingness. Especially when held up against the thing he really wants to do; that wild idea he’s been hoping and dreaming about for more than a year now.

The idea that Robert had inadvertently reminded him of.

He frowns, his mind filling up with Robert’s words.

_You’re one of the most creative writers I know. Even one of your ideas is better than most of everyone else’s._

His confidence bolstered, Aaron smiles.

He crumples up the pages in his hand and tosses them into a nearby bin, the wad of paper bouncing off the rim of the waste paper basket and falling in.

He doesn’t need those after all. He knows exactly what he’s going to do.

Checking his watch one last time, he turns to his right and knocks on the opaque glass door.

“Come in!” A woman’s voice calls out from the other side of the door.

He lets out a deep breath, turns the handle, and walks on through.

:::::

The room is chilly in the way all conference rooms inevitably are, like they’re aware that their sole purpose is only fleeting and so can’t be bothered to retain heat. However, the _real_ surprise is that he’s met with _three_ familiar faces instead of the expected two; Jai somehow having decided to sit in at this meeting as well.

A little thrown at first, Aaron gathers himself enough to give everyone a curt introductory nod, his lips stretched into a thin line.

Shutting the door behind him, he walks all the way in, doing his best to project as much confidence as possible as he makes straight for the centre of the table and pulls out a chair directly across from Chrissie, the older woman seated in the middle of both men — a clear sign of who’ll be running this meeting.

“Hiya,” Aaron says, wavering for a moment as he decides whether or not to shake everyone’s hands. But seeing as no one else moves to do so, he just takes a seat, pulling his chair forward a little as his knee already starts to bounce up and down. “‘m Aaron. Aaron Dingle.”

“Aaron’s one of our top entertainment writers,” Jai says, cutting in brightly, much to his immense relief. “He practically runs our music section singlehandedly.”

“Oh I’m aware,” Lawrence responds, giving Aaron an appraising glance. For a second he fears the absolute worst, but then Robert explains in that sonorous baritone of his, “My _other_ daughter is a big fan of music festivals, many of which you’ve been covering quite a bit. Isn’t that right?”

As both Chrissie and Jai turn to look at him, Aaron nods, a smile fighting its way up to his lips at the actual joy of being able to discuss some of the work he’s actually passionate about right off the bat. Still, he holds it at bay, only letting the corners of his mouth turn up — an attempt at professional neutrality.

“Uh, yeah,” he replies, bringing his right hand onto the table as his left moves up to scratch at his eyebrow. “Loads of popular artists have started headlinin’ festivals all over the world, and tons more people have started attendin’ them just in the UK alone. Felt like it might be a good idea to start covering them. You know, ‘follow the story’ and all that.”

“Well, your instincts are right on the money,” Chrissie tells him, sliding a printed page over to both her father and Jai, before sending him one as well. “You see, your concert and festival coverage has quite a bit of potential in terms of website monetisation. Because unlike a few other sections of the newspaper, yours actually stands to make a bit of profit. Especially if we start working on securing more exclusive coverage like you’ve been already been doing.”

Aaron sits there a little stunned, his eyes merely skimming over the sheet in front of him, taking in only the odd number here and there as Chrissie’s words echo in his brain on a loop. This meeting could not have gone more the opposite of the one he’d had with Jai.

“Cool,” he responds, unsure what else to say as his mind still processes what she's said. “What do you need _me_ to do?”

Chrissie all but grins at that, like he’s said exactly what she wants to hear and she couldn’t be more pleased. “Since you’re full of bright and potentially lucrative ideas, why don’t you just tell us what other kinds of coverage you might have planned?”

As she eyes him coolly, and Lawrence watches him expectantly, Aaron chances a glance at Jai, knowing the editor expects him to go off the idea of that list he’d accidentally pitched to him yesterday, and start proposing something similar. He’s proven correct when Jai raises his eyebrows and shrugs his shoulders as if to say, _go ahead, what are you waiting for?_

For a brief second, that confident spark within him waivers, and Aaron finds himself second-guessing his recent decision, his thoughts spinning outward towards the crumpled up piece of paper now sitting in a random co-worker’s wastepaper basket, and how what he’s about to suggest is nothing like that, and might result in him getting a firm “no” while _also_ losing his job for going rogue…

 _Remember what you told_ Robert _,_ his mind supplies out of nowhere.

 _A good writer takes risks. So if_ he _can do it, so can_ you.

The reminder helps steady his faith in himself as he remembers the belief Robert had shown in him just minutes ago. That feeling is helped along by Chrissie and Lawrence’s recent reaction, as Aaron decides that maybe there _are_ some risks worth taking. 

So he clears his throat and takes the plunge.

“I actually do have something…” He begins, taking a deep breath in. “This summer’s actually the 30th anniversary of Jack Sugden’s book, _A Man, United_.”

He makes a studious effort to avoid Jai’s eyes. Only it proves unnecessary because seeing the spark of interest in both Lawrence and Chrissie’s eyes spurs him on. “So I was thinkin’ it might be worth it to celebrate it by revisitin’ it.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” Lawrence asks, leaning forward. If he notices Chrissie’s eyes flashing towards him with the hint of betrayed annoyance currently on display, Lawrence doesn’t let on.

“Yes,” she says, smiling coolly as she turns back toward Aaron, a slight gritted look to her teeth. “What _are_ you thinking of doing?”

Aaron swallows nervously, his throat growing dryer by the second. He glances between father and daughter.

“I want to go on that same trip,” he says, doing his best to ease both owners into his idea. “Obviously we make a few changes and stuff, but I was thinkin’ we could film it. Maybe stream it on the site.”

Now that he’s spoken this long-withheld idea out loud, he’s finding that it’s taken a life of its own, morphing and growing to fit the space, after months of lying dormant and solely existing in a hidden document on his computer.

“Because I was thinkin’, instead of me drivin’ around and listenin’ to a bunch of current bands, like in the book, I could just follow around one band and make a kind of documentary about it. Like a behind the scenes of what it’s like to go on tour to festivals, or whatever,” Aaron continues, his voice confident and his excitement level slowly rising. “I mean, that _is_ what Jack Sugden said he’d wanted to do originally. ‘cept he never did manage to follow the Rolling Stones.”

His heart is thumping in his ears by the time he finished speaking, his revved up excitement causing a smile to break free after all. His gaze flicks from Jai (blanket surprise), to Lawrence (impressed consideration), before eventually settling on Chrissie, her expression still detached and unreadable.

Slowly, his internal engine starts to cool down.

“And why should we send _you_ and not Robert? Seeing as he is Jack’s son,” Chrissie finally asks — though not before sneaking a quick glance at her father — her voice cutting through his now-diminishing enthusiasm like a blade through softened butter.

The unexpected query gives him pause, Aaron having never in a million years considered that _this_ might be a possibility. That he may very well lose his dream assignment — to Robert Sugden no less — all on the basis that he wasn’t born Jack’s son.

But then again, he reminds himself, Robert hadn’t actually worked at the paper until a few days ago, so this was never a contingency to anticipate. All he can do now is convince his bosses otherwise.

_This is what I get for accidentally pitchin’ his idea._

Just as quick as it had appeared, that swell of annoyance at his new co-worker dissipates, though traces still manage to linger. Aaron decides to let it fuel his argument.

“Robert might be a good writer, and yeah, he’s Jack’s son, but I can give you something he can’t,” Aaron says, his voice remaining firm and confident as he meets Chrissie’s eyes. “Exclusive access. _And_ quality reportin’.”

He lets the words sit in the air a moment longer, strengthening their impact as much as he can before he continues.

“I’ve been writin’ about music for almost _five_ years now. Publicists know me. Bands trust me. I’ll be able to get all sorts of stuff out of them that some other writer wouldn’t,” he argues, his passion bleeding out into his voice as he makes his case, his gaze alternating between Chrissie and Lawrence at different intervals, before choosing to settle on her alone. “Besides, the real reason so many people love that book so much is because it makes them feel like they were really there — just like a documentary would. Why not give them that same feeling?”

It’s the most he’s ever spoken aloud about this idea, and as soon as he’s done talking, the breath rushes out of him, winding him and leaving him to inhale slowly so as to catch it again.

Too tense to see how it’s been received, he lowers his eyes to his hands on the table, interlocking both sets of fingers and using the thumb of his right hand to stroke the nail of his left. Under the table, his knee continues bouncing, it’s pace as restless as ever.

Thankfully he doesn’t have to wait _too_ long for a response.

“You make a good point,” Chrissie asserts, her voice thoughtful and measured. “And it’s clear you’re a big fan of the book.”

“Been readin’ it every summer since I was fifteen,” Aaron tells her, trying to curb the hint of challenge that’s made his way into his voice, as he gets more defensive of his credentials. In an attempt to soften himself his reaction, he adds, “It’s why I became a writer.”

They lock eyes for a moment, hers dark and evaluating, his blue and almost defiant.

Suddenly it feels like something _clicks_ , and they break contact.

“Well then, you’ve certainly given us a lot to think about,” Chrissie tells him, her words clipped and a little distracted, her business-oriented mind clearly already calculating the logistics of executing this assignment. “Of course, it’ll take some time for us to get back to you, seeing as we have quite a few pitches to get through.”

Aaron nods, not too surprised by this response. He’d pretty much expected it given how the newspaper’s assignment approval process tends to work. Nevertheless, as he sits there in that chair, he can’t help but acknowledge the silent thrill that’s passing through him at the possibility of having his dream assignment possibly _approved_.

All because he finally took a risk.

All because he ended up listening to Robert.

All because he took his advice.

 _Maybe I should yell at him more often_.

He has to bite back a smile at the thought, but thankfully none of the Whites _or_ Jai picks up on his momentary slip of distraction, as he brings himself back just in time to hear Chrissie expound on his pitch.

“-but why don’t you send me and Jai a complete outline of how you envision going about doing this exactly, so we can see what you’re thinking,” the older woman informs him, a hint of interest in his story peeking through. “That way we can see if there might be a better way for us to optimise it for the site… If that does eventually turn out to be the case.”

His hopes steadily rising, Aaron glances over at Jai to see how he seems to be taking this news, but the editor is just looking at Chrissie with his eyebrows raised and a thoughtful glint in his eyes.

So Aaron just looks back at her and nods, barely able to say anything beyond, “Yeah. Sure. I’ll get on that,” every fibre of his being now _vibrating_ with excitement.

“Great,” Chrissie declares with a pleased-as-punch grin. No doubt happy to have concluded this discussion quite smoothly. “Now, are there any other ideas you’d like to discuss?”

Unable, and a little unwilling, to think of anything else, Aaron just shakes his head. “Uh, no. Just the one.”

“Wonderful. If that’s all, you can go. It was nice meeting you Aaron,” Chrissie says, wrapping up the meeting. “And don’t forget to email us that outline. I’m looking forward to reading it.”

“Thanks,” Aaron replies, this time not fighting the smile on his face as he gets to his feet. “And, uh, will do.”

He can barely contain himself as he makes his way back across the room. But as soon as the door _clicks_ shut behind him, he bursts into an enthusiastic but entirely silent fist pump, his right hand punching the air in front of him.

The happiness soon gives way to a combination of relief and elation, his only outlet for it being a long, deep breath _out_.

He did it. He actually did it.

He pitched the idea he’s been dreaming about for _nine_ years now, ever since it hit him all those years ago when he’d been driving home on a break from his first year of university and he’d hit PLAY on his car stereo, cueing up the specially curated mix CD he’d burned in his dorm room just days ago, eager to replace the previous one which had ended up too scratched to work after one too many listen-throughs.

And yes, it may take a few more days and a little more convincing on his part until he gets a more formal approval to go ahead with it, but it’s more than he’d ever dreamed when he’d woken up this morning.

And he owes it all to one man.

_Drinks are on me tonight._

:::::

 

There’s a slight spring in his step as he heads back to his desk — and by extension, Robert. Only when he arrives he sees that he’s nowhere to be found. 

In his stead, however, are two familiar faces, that of Tracy and Finn, both colleagues attempting their own study of Robert’s workspace.

They don’t notice his approach, both marvelling over the small collection of objects neatly gathered on Robert’s desk.

“Aww, look! He’s kind of nerdy as well,” the blonde gossip columnist coos, excitedly nudging the bespectacled editorial assistant. (Aaron almost snorts, having had that same thought himself when he’d eyed the mug and Post-It pad that morning.)

“It doesn’t mean anything, loads of people love _Star Wars_ ,” Finn replies sourly, as if a little insulted. “And _Doctor Who_. Doesn’t make him special.”

Aaron stands there with his arms crossed, watching them for a few more seconds before clearing his throat and saying, “Yeah. Loads of people _also_ don’t like people goin’ through their stuff.”

It makes them both jump, his gruff words causing them each to blush.

“We’re not goin’ through his stuff…” Tracy corrects him, a trace of defensiveness in her voice, just as Finn blurts out, “We didn’t mean to!”

They exchange a look — the older blonde rolling her eyes and shaking her head as the shorter man just raises his shoulders as if to say, _What_ _did you expect me to say_? — before Finn turns to Aaron and tries to explain, _more_ than a little flustered by the sight of his former deskmate. “We just wanted to stop by and see if Robert wanted to grab a coffee with us. That’s all.”

“Only, it looks like he’s not here anymore,” Tracy gestures at Robert’s empty chair with a frown. “Guess he must have gone home early.”

“I would too if I’d written the most shared story on the site _today_ ,” Finn points out, his voice a mix between envy and awe. “Instead I’m stuck writin’ up stupid news posts.”

“I keep tellin’ ya, write a big comin’ out essay!” Tracy advises him playfully with a nudge and a wink. “Ooh! Maybe you can ask Robert for advice with that when we finally take him out for that coffee.”

Something inside Aaron bristles and he ends up asking, “Why would you want to do that?”

This time Tracy rolls her eyes at him and responds like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “Uh, to welcome our new co-worker to the office?”

She waits a quick beat before adding, with an almost flirtatious bend to her voice, which is now just above a mock whisper, “And to see if he’s just as fit up close. I mean, have you seen his last Instagram post?”

Aaron’s insides _churn_ at that both the thought and the insinuation, even though he knows it’s ultimately harmless. He’s worked with both Tracy and Finn for a couple of years now, and while he’s never mentioned his relationship status or his sexual and romantic orientation even once (preferring to keep that little bit of information under wraps as much as possible at work) neither of them has really pried into that subject — not even Finn who’d sat right across from him the entire time he’s known him. (Though Aaron suspects this has more to do with their general lack of interest in his life as opposed to a rampant preoccupation with their own.)

Nevertheless, his pulse is rising steadily as he grumpily retorts, “Didn’t you meet him at that party a few days ago?” 

“Yeah, but we barely got to talk to him,” Finn laments woefully. “He was either with Lawrence, or Chrissie, or asking ‘round after _you_.”

“And then he met some old friend of his and left with her,” Tracy picks up and continues, thinking out loud as she directs her next question at Finn. “Oooh. You think she might have been an ex? Because she was drop dead gorgeous.”

“Wait, Robert was asking after me?” Aaron asks, ignoring Finn’s still dithering response and Tracy’s curious query as his voice pitches high and his gut does a small flip of surprise at this revelation.

“Yeah. Something about getting to know his new ‘deskmate,’” Finn explains with a shrug, long since used to Aaron’s prolonged bouts of rudeness.

Suddenly reminded of his being moved, Aaron opens his mouth to ask Finn about his new desk, but he’s cut off by a mildly annoyed Tracy as she exclaims, “Not sure why he’d need to though. It’s not like he wouldn’t be seein’ ya in the morning anyway!”

With both eyes on him, Aaron searches for an answer, before eventually settling on the truth, “Oh. I just… had somethin’ of his.”

_His suit jacket._

Not that he tells them that. Despite their consummate lack of interest in his personal life, the last thing he needs is to fall under the scrutiny of the two chief architects of the office rumour mill.

So as his cheeks begin to quickly heat up, he clears his throat and attempts to redirect the conversation, asking, “Anyway, why ya so interested in his personal life anyway? Aren’t you already seein’ that tattoo artist, Asim?”

He briefly recalls the handsome Pakistani man Tracy had brought as a date to a casual dinner a few of them had gone out for together a few weeks back. He’d seemed like a nice enough fellow, even if he and Aaron hadn’t seen eye to eye on things like music or football.

“I am, but it’s not like we’re exclusive,” she shrugs in very much the same way Adam had when he’d questioned him about his current dating situation. “Anyway, this is mostly for _Finn_. It’s been ages since he’s been out with someone decent.”

At the mention of his name, Finn seems to turn two shades redder than he’d been previously.

“And you thought _Robert_ would be a good match?” Aaron asks, the question coming out a little pointed before he can really stop himself. “Without even talkin’ to him?”

“Why not? I’ve read his writin’,” Tracy argues back. “He’s fit, funny, and sensitive. Finn could do a lot worse.”

“I don’t even like him like that,” Finn protests, his words coming out in a bit of a whiny mumble. “I told ya, Trace, he’s not really my type.”

“Trust me, babe, Robert Sugden is _everyone_ ’s type,” Tracy states, before turning around and eyeing Aaron.

“Now, can you please message one of us in case he comes back?” She asks, her eyebrows high and questioning even as her voice is reluctant as ever. “You know, so we can come by and ask ‘im again.”

Aaron doesn’t say anything, just continues to stand there like a sullen statue — not that it phases her any. Finally, he concedes, rolling his eyes and muttering a grumpy, “Yeah, alright.”

He doesn’t need to tell them to leave, because Tracy gives him a bright, sunny smile as she slides her arm around Finn, who looks like he’s swallowed a frog, as they turn to once again make their exit.

“What if he doesn’t date co-workers?” Finn quietly groans, having apparently come around to the idea of dating Robert.

“What? You never know!” Tracy replies with a confident laugh. “Might make a fun article: ‘I Dated My Co-worker For A Week.’”

“Don’t even joke about it,” Finn warns her, his relatable mortification coming through loud and clear.

“I’m kidding,” she tells him, her voice carrying to Aaron’s ears even as they walk away. “But you better give it a shot. Because if you don’t, I will. Like you said, Robert Sugden _is_ bisexual.”

With his momentary anxiety ebbing away upon their leaving, Aaron’s able to focus on more important matters: Chrissie (and Lawrence) possibly greenlighting his documentary.

Once again buzzing at his recent accomplishment, he sits back at his desk, waking up his computer again.

As it comes back to life. He finds a flood of new emails in his inbox, but his attention is caught by the one sitting pretty close to the top.

It’s from Robert.

He clicks on it.

_Hi Aaron,_

_Wasn’t sure if you’d get a chance to see your messages, so I thought I’d email you as well._

_Here’s my number._

_Hope the meeting went well,_

_Robert_

Almost immediately, he checks his office chat messages and sees that Robert had indeed sent him his number a while ago as requested.

He smiles as he rereads the message in front of him, Robert’s eagerness now apparent and very much a welcome surprise. After all, he’d assumed going to free concerts and the like were very much the norm for him.

He fishes out his phone and types in his number, before quickly adding a short message containing the address underneath. 

 **AARON  
** _Hi. It’s Aaron. Meet me here at 7:00PM._

He hits SEND.

It takes less than a minute for him to get a response.

 **ROBERT  
**_Great! See you then!_ :)

He stares at the words for a while before shaking his head and pulling up a word document so he can send type up the formal pitch proposal he’d promised Jai and Chrissie.

_Maybe tonight will be loads of fun after all._

:::::

He gets to the bar a little earlier than expected, having left work a whole hour early so he could go home, shower, and change into something a little more concert appropriate — at least for tonight.

Because even though what he was wearing earlier was perfectly fine, some small part of him wants to make a good impression on Robert, and show him that _yes_ , not only is he capable of getting dressed up of his own volition, but that he cares enough about his job (and this assignment) to actually do so. 

It’s why he’s standing outside the bar with gelled hair, wearing his favourite black jeans, a light grey and white striped jumper he’d washed a few nights before, and his black bomber jacket — or as Adam has lovingly referred to it in the past, his bonafide “out on the pull uniform.”

(Aaron actually disagrees with this summation because he doesn’t actually get dressed with the explicit intention of picking up a stranger. Rather, it’s just something that happens, more often than not, in _this_ particular outfit.)

In any case, tonight’s get up has absolutely nothing to do with the way a certain blonde’s eyes have trailed over his body as they’d taken in his outfit in previous mornings. (Though just because Robert didn’t do it this morning, doesn’t mean he might not tonight when his mind is more alert and clear.)

Seeing as he has some time to kill, Aaron fishes out his phone.

He quickly answers a text from Adam, his friend raving about some joke Sophie’s made. After firing a quick _shut up_ to Adam’s clearly teasing _play nice_ , he exits out of their conversation, his eyes immediately falling on the name right below it.

 _Robert_.

He contemplates texting Robert, just to see how close he might be in case he might want to go inside and wait…

But as his thumb hovers over the text box, he finds himself unsure of whether it’s even the right decision. He doesn’t want to come across as _too_ eager for what is just a casual night among friendly co-workers, lest it gives Robert the wrong idea — a notion he’d gleaned from one of Robert’s own articles on dating.

Shaking his head, and convinced it’s the right choice, Aaron exits out of their brief text conversation from earlier.

_He’ll be fine. He’ll text me if he gets lost._

He puts his phone back in his pocket and enters.

:::::

The first thing he’s hit with when he walks in is the low lighting and the general buzz of people chatting, punctuated by the occasional clinks of glass.

The second thing he notices, his eyes having finally adjusted to his new surroundings, is the sight of one Robert Sugden, currently leaning on the bar counter, his phone in his hands as he taps away on it, for all intents and purposes lost to the world.

But it’s not his new co-worker’s unexpected presence that strikes Aaron in the gut and causes his breath to all but vanish. No, that would be the burgundy blazer and blue jeans he’s sporting, the whole look offset by a white and grey print shirt and accentuated by the side profile he’s presented with; Robert’s tall lean across the bar top only calling more attention to his firm and rounded rear.

To quote Tracy from just a few hours earlier, Robert looks nothing but _fit_.

As if sensing his presence, Robert actually stands up straighter and looks around. Within seconds he spots Aaron, his face automatically bursting into a delighted smile, even as his eyes make a careful sweep of the outfit he’s wearing.

Aaron doesn’t need to look at him for long to know he's gotten the reaction he wanted, Robert’s being impressed coming off of him in waves, even if he hasn’t voiced anything… yet. It’s enough to jumpstart his ability to walk again, as he takes the few extra steps it requires to join Robert at the bar, a slightly confident swagger in his step.

“What’s the occasion?” Robert asks lightly, cutting to the chase without further ado. He gives Aaron another once-over as if underscoring his point.

“Does there have to be one?” Aaron replies, attempting to shrug nonchalantly even as the faint scent of _cologne_ hits his nostrils and speeds up his pulse. “‘Cause I could ask you the same thing. You don’t often see suits at a concert.”

Because two can play at that game, he lets his eyes drift down Robert for emphasis as well, his close proximity allowing him to see the almost floral paisley pattern on Robert’s shirt much more clearly.

When his eyes return to Robert’s face, he sees that Robert is simply watching him, blue-green eyes almost hesitating to blink in careful anticipation.

At his continued silence, Robert offers his own shrug. “Just fancied getting dressed up, I ‘spose… Doesn’t hurt to make an effort. But I’m guessing _you_ already know that.”

He smiles knowingly, nodding as he acknowledges Aaron’s efforts once again. It may not have put a blush on his face a few moments ago, but he can feel his cheeks working their way up to one now.

He clears his throat and simply replies, “Yeah. Got some good advice the other day. Thought I’d give it a try and follow it.”

His tone is playful and irreverent, but something about his words knocks the smile off of Robert’s face, leaving Robert just gazing at him with something akin to wonder in his eyes.

Unwilling to decipher what it might mean, Aaron turns his attention to the bar in front of him, hoping if he doesn’t say anything else the moment will pass. He signals the bartender, who makes her way over.

“You order something yet?” He asks, trying his best to refrain from immediately turning to face Robert.

He fails.

After a beat, Robert shakes his head at him, his expression shifting to a bashful half-smile. “I was actually waiting for _you_.”

“Great. ‘Cause I’m buying,” Aaron nods and turns to the tattooed older woman looking at them expectantly. “One pint, and whatever he’s having.”

She nods and looks over to Robert, who just says, “I’ll have a pint as well.”

They stand there in silence as she goes off to fetch their orders, neither of them quite looking at the other as they wait.

“So… You do this a lot?” Robert ventures softly, Aaron the sole focus of his attention as his elbow rests on the counter. He tries not to notice the lack of elbow patches tonight. “Bringing people to concerts with you, I mean.”

He purses his lips and thinks about it, before shaking his head. “Just you… and Adam. But he’s usually just along for the free booze and the possibility of finding a date.”

“And who says I’m not?” Robert asks, his voice dripping with amusement and _challenge_.

As Aaron turns to look up at him again, the air between them pulses, filled with the subtle tension of a possible joke gone wrong and an interaction currently on the verge of a misunderstanding. But as he looks into Robert’s eyes, Aaron is sure that what he’d said is not the case, because he lets out a snort and shakes his head, before taking a sip of the drinks placed in front of them.

“Shut up.”

Robert chuckles as he takes his own sip.

“But what about you?” He asks a moment later, amusement having faded away again. He doesn’t look up at Aaron, keeping his gaze focused on the glass on the counter in front of him. “You… don’t…?”

Aaron shrugs and shakes his head, the idea of using the perks of his career to secure a date having lost its charm years ago. But he tries not to think about it. “Well, it’s my job… So, no.”

Robert seems to sense something is up because he lets it go. Instead, he grins as he goes for another sip. “Guess that makes me special.”

Aaron rolls his eyes even as he smiles reluctantly. “Do you actually _try_ to act this annoying? Or does that just come naturally?”

Robert’s smile back at him only seems to grow larger, pink lips spreading wide against freckled cheeks. “Well, you know what they say. You can’t win ‘em all.”

“So you just annoy them in the process?” Aaron asks teasingly, his fingers absentmindedly rubbing against the base of the pint glass, his fingers slick with condensation.

Robert gazes at him for a second, a flicker of the unknown in his eyes. “Something like that.” 

Aaron just shakes his head and sips.

:::::

They move to a table at the far side of the bar, Aaron having decided that it would be best to sit right now, seeing as they’ll be spending the rest of their night standing.

“Where exactly _is_ the concert?” Robert asks curiously as they settle into chairs facing each other.

It proves a bit of a tight fit, Aaron having to quickly grab onto both their drink glasses as one of Robert’s longer legs knock into the table, causing it to wobble. Eventually, they manage to settle in, knees somewhat pressed against each other’s below the surface and arms just constantly a hair’s breadth away from the other on top.

But even this doesn’t stop him from smirking enigmatically at Robert and leaving him with a mischievous, “You’ll see.”

He waits for Robert to finish chuckling before he asks a question that’s been on his mind all evening. “So, how’d you first hear about Bear’s Den? Doesn’t quite strike me as your kind of music.”

Robert’s eyebrows lift, a half smile playing at his lips. “And what exactly _is_ my kind of music?”

He already has an inkling, based on the various social media posts Adam’s sent him (and he’s mocked) over the years, but he still takes a moment to study the man in front of him — eyes narrowing as if Robert Sugden’s face might spill a few secrets his lips won’t. 

Finally satisfied with his read, Aaron leans forward even closer, his forearm now pressed up against Robert’s, and smiles knowingly.

“Katy Perry, Adele, maybe even some ABBA.” He chuckles at the stunned expression on Robert’s face. “You were hummin’ some Carly Rae yesterday. Wasn’t too much of a stretch to put two and two together.”

A few moments of stunned gaping later, Robert sits back and crosses his arms. His shin brushes up against Aaron’s as he does so, sending an unexpected shiver up his back. If Robert notices, he doesn’t react.

“Surprised you recognised that,” he says earnestly, his brows furrowing as he studies Aaron. “Didn’t think you were much of a pop fan. You hardly ever write about it.”

_Guess he really does read my work._

Aaron takes a sip and shrugs. “Yeah, well, I’d be crap music writer if I didn’t know all the popular stuff, wouldn’t I?”

Robert seems to accept that answer well enough. But then a twinkle enters his eyes and his lips form a smile as he asks playfully, “Alright then, what does the great Aaron Dingle listen to for pleasure?”

The question stumps Aaron momentarily, his mind going blank the way these questions always cause it to. As much as his job requires him to recommend music for other people to listen to, he’s hardly ever asked about his _own_ personal tastes. (Though he feels like his writing tends to reflect it well enough.)

“Loads of stuff,” he says, after a few seconds of racking his slow-to-produce mind. “The xx, The National, Bon Iver… You know, that kind of thing.”

Robert smiles and leans forward again, his hand glancing across Aaron’s arm just as his knee also grazes Aaron. Given the slowness of his, Aaron’s _almost_ convinced he knows the effect he’s having on him, as a kind of itch takes residence under his skin and causes him to shift in his seat. It’s enough to make him almost miss Robert’s question.

“It’s probably a good sign I’ve only heard of _some_ of them, then, eh?”

Aaron clears his throat, stalling for a little more time thanks to his slight loss for words. Eventually, he manages to calm his slightly sped up pulse, a smirk teasing at the corner of his own lips as he counters, “Clearly not doin’ my job then.”

As Robert shoots him an amused smile, Aaron holds eye contact, not even breaking to bring his glass up to his lips and take a few _long_ sips. Robert’s eyes temporarily flick down to his throat and back up to his eyes as he seems to slowly swallow, the smile slipping off his lips the longer he gazes at Aaron.

The cold beer flowing down his throat does nothing to quell the warmth slowly building in his limbs. The itch intensifies.

Aaron places the glass back down, fighting the urge to shift in his seat again.

Then, as part of his effort to really take his mind off of everything. He changes tack.

“So… How was the rest of your first day?” He makes sure he keeps his tone gentle and casual, even shooting for a welcoming smile to accompany it. “Most read story on the site and everythin’. Reckon your dad would have been proud.”

For a second it appears as if a shadow of something passes across Robert’s face, a kind of darkening of his features like a cloud covering the sun. Only a quick blink later and it’s gone, with Robert smiling across at Aaron like nothing’s happened. Though his expression seems to have taken on a watery quality.

As he opens his mouth to reply, the bar is filled with the sound of audio feedback and a guitar test strumming.

Glancing over towards the back of the room, Aaron sees a group of people begin to gather near a door. He turns to look at Robert, expecting an excited smile on his face, but he’s met with the tail end of a beer glass as he glugs down every last drop of alcohol left.

Aaron snorts and grins. “You know, we _can_ take our drinks back there with us... But guess that’s not a problem anymore.”

Robert meets his eyes and smiles sheepishly as he places his glass back on the table. “Uh, yeah… Sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Aaron tells him before finishing off the last few sips of his own drink and getting to his feet. “I’ll get the next one.”

:::::

He keeps his word, buying them a fresh round of pints minutes after they’ve stepped into the private back garden of the bar, a small stage standing on one side of the venue, and a small bar set up on the other. The entire space is walled off by wooden fencing with strings of light bulbs hung overhead, illuminating the entire space with a warm, soft glow.

It’s one of Aaron’s favourite concert spaces, and for some reason, he’d been nervous to hear Robert’s opinion of it, his heart having started pounding the second they’d stepped into it. Thankfully the quiet gasp he’d heard behind him had confirmed a positive first impression, and the clenching within his chest had finally let go.

Walking back, two tall plastic cups of beer in hand, he notes that a small group of people is already beginning to form near the front of the stage. But as he looks for Robert, he finds that he’s chosen to hang back around the middle, away from everyone else. 

He stops and watches for a moment, as Robert simply stands there, hands stuffed into his jeans pockets and suit jacket billowing slightly outward as he stares straight ahead seemingly lost in thought, just a twinge of a smile on his lips. Set against the ink spilt evening sky and the yellow warmth of the garden’s lighting, he looks like something out of a painting.

“Standing in the middle. Interesting choice,” Aaron notes when he joins him, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the buzz of the crowd. “Thought you’d want to be right up front, almost in the middle of it.”

Despite Robert’s smile at his words, Aaron feels like his playful tone hasn’t quite landed. But when he blinks, that feeling is gone.

“Not everything needs to be admired from up close,” Robert tells him softly, eyes locked on Aaron’s face as he takes a step even closer and accepts his next drink. He eventually looks away as he adds, “Some things are better with a little distance.”

He doesn’t step away. Just remains standing in Aaron’s space somewhat, quietly sipping his drink. 

“That the subject of your next column then?” Aaron jokes, mirroring his actions. Suddenly he remembers where they’d left off. “Which reminds me. You never did finish tellin’ me about the rest of your day.”

“Uh, yeah, it was fine. Pretty much left after a bit,” Robert answers, taking another quick sip. Aaron watches as he licks away the smidge of foam on his upper lip before continuing, “But enough about me. How’d that big meeting go?”

“Quite good actually,” Aaron says, thinking back. “Chrissie told me to send in a proper proposal. So I think she might actually say yes.”

“What’d I tell you, eh?” Robert says with a proud smile as he gently, but excitedly, nudges him. “You’re Aaron Dingle. Of course they’d love your pitch! They’d be mad not to.”

Aaron can feel his cheeks grow warm under the attention of Robert, but it does nothing to stop the smile making its way across them anyway.

“I don’t know about that. They still have to approve it,” he tells him, the nerves coming through in his voice tempering his still-surging excitement. But then he adds, with every ounce of warmth he can put into it, “Thanks, though.” 

Robert shakes his head like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Don’t thank me yet. You still haven’t told me what it is!”

He pauses for a moment, eyes narrowing as he takes in Aaron’s face.

“Unless it’s some big secret…” He ventures slowly, seemingly watching for a reaction. A beat later his eyes widen and grins at Aaron in excitement. “Don’t tell me you’re interviewing _Cher_ or something?”

The enthusiasm of his question throws Aaron off, causing him to bark out a laugh even as his eyebrows furrow at the incredulity of it all.

“You do know it’s not the late ‘60s right?” He asks, half-serious, half-joking. “And, uh, no. It’s nothin’ like that.”

Another round of feedback cuts through the space, a black t-shirted roadie checking yet another instrument for sound. Not long now.

Aaron looks over at Robert and leans in, raising his voice slightly as he says. “It’s actually about your dad’s book, _A Man, United_. Since the anniversary’s coming up, I thought it might be a good idea to go on the same trip, but as a documentary.”

As silence once more besets the gathering crowd, something in Robert seems to still, his entire previous energy dimming at this reveal. His eyebrows slowly rise up, as his eyes lower to the ground, all at once surprised and pensive, and something in between. It takes a moment before he seems to swallow, almost thoughtfully so, before he looks up at Aaron, smiles, and eventually says, “Didn’t realise you were such a big Jack Sugden fan…”

That’s when it hits him, a realisation so obvious he’s surprised it hadn’t dawned on him before.

“Oh Robert, I’m so sorry,” he whispers, the cold grip of guilt twisting his insides. “I didn’t even think. I should’ve asked ya first, Jack bein’ ya dad and all.”

Robert cuts him off with a shake of his head. “Seriously, I don’t mind. You’re a great music writer, and clearly, a big fan. He’d have been honoured to have someone as talented as you workin’ on this. I’m sure of it.”

Aaron smiles nervously, searching Robert’s face for any hidden annoyances or upset. He finds none. Just a warm, encouraging smile in its place. “You sure about that?”

“Positive,” Robert replies with a smile. But there’s a slight strain to his voice and his usual warmth barely hits his eyes.

Aaron feels his stomach lurch. Despite what he’d said to Chrissie in their meeting earlier, the idea of talking to Jack Sugden’s own son _about_ Jack Sugden had never occurred to him before. After all, Robert’s just always ever been that to him — _Robert_ Sugden, the annoyingly loud and borderline obnoxious sex writer who’d been fortunate enough to have a famous father. Any other major annoyances had been borne of his own actions and online persona. The thought of Robert’s actually having had a relationship with the man he’d so admired had never even entered the equation until now. It’s startlingly embarrassing.

He smiles sheepishly at Robert. “Should probably interview ya for this, if it happens.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less,” Robert answers, still a little muted, if not veering into self-deprecating. “And don’t worry. You won’t have to bring me to a concert to soften me up first or anything.”

He smiles thinly down into his beer before taking another sip of it. But despite the playfulness of his words, his tone and actions continue to lack the enthusiasm of earlier.

“Nah,” Aaron counters, punctuating his declaration with his own sip. “Concerts are for welcomes and apologies. If I _really_ wanted to soften ya up, I’d try and actually set up that Cher interview.”

And just like that, any lingering awkwardness between them in the past few moments seems to pass, leaving breezy laughter in its place as Robert’s shaking head tips forward and his shoulders shudder with tickled amusement.

Aaron smiles cheekily, pleased with the result he’s wrought as he watches Robert calm down again, his eager lightness from earlier returning — or at least some form of it, all traces of residual guilt and awkward uncomfortableness fading away.

Before he can say anything further, a hush seems to come over the crowd and he turns to see the band’s members make their way onto the stage.

A low swell of anticipation takes root in his gut, the way it always does before any live musical performance — but especially so in this space, where the restricted attendance allows for a more personal, almost private experience.

When he looks over at Robert, he sees that same buzz reflected in his face. But it quickly transforms into confused curiosity, when he returns his gaze just in time to see Aaron take his phone out.

Aaron leans over and whispers, his mouth centimetres away from Robert’s ear, “Ready to watch a real writer work?”

:::::

It’s midway through the set, and he’s barely finished tapping his first round of notes into his phone when he decides to take a break and just let this next song wash over him, the gentle strumming of both guitars already convincing him to let go of his constant drive to work and simply… relax. 

He puts his phone away and brings his hands down to his side, resisting the urge to put them in his pockets or follow along with the rhythmic clapping everyone else seems to be taking part in, the sound supplementing the bass drum’s booms. Instead, Aaron closes his eyes, allowing the song’s beat to take over and letting his mind drift off to that space where music and feeling intertwine, causing both a swell of emotions and a spark of electricity that can only come from hearing something performed live. It’s everything he loves about music and performance, and everything he tries to capture in his work.

_You’re not drinking as much as you used to…_

The wistful sound of the lyrics kicks his imagination into gear as his celebratory brain — now spurred on by a few drinks and it’s musically induced blissful state — begins to imagine what it would be like to actually go on the road; following a band from venue to venue as they play both small, intimate spaces and big, wide fields housing whole festivals, all in pursuit of following in the footsteps of his hero.

His heart starts to swell, each emphatic note filling his mind with memories of his university drives home, his younger self cruising past stretches of farmland and lone roadside pubs, always wishing and hoping _he_ could do something that grand…

_I’m the same old, same old…_

It’s in the process of picturing himself once again embarking on those same kinds of drives — only now with his older self’s drive and sense of purpose — that he feels it…

… a slight graze across the back of his hand; knuckles skimming across the ridges of his loosely curled fingers, like a match’s head striking the rough surface of a matchbox, igniting a trail of fire beneath it with a single touch.

 _And all those fires that died in our bedroom…_  

His hand twitches in surprise, fingers flexing from the contact as his eyes fly open, the music temporarily forgotten as he works to steady his instantly spiked heart rate and get his breathing under control. Letting out a slow exhale, he turns his head slightly, keeping his movements slow and deliberate so as to not spook the man in question. 

Only when he peers at him out of the corner of his eye, he finds that he needn’t have worried, Robert already deep in a swirl of some unnamed emotion, eyes distant and misty with unshed tears. His lower lip pouts determinedly, and his chin starts to tremble. If he’d thought Robert looked a bit shaken this morning, he looks almost bereft now, a lost child wandering a mall in search of its missing mother.

_I was out fetching wood…_

He brings his gaze forward, unsure what to do having never encountered this kind of raw emotion from a fellow concert-goer— Adam having never even come close to having an experience like this. His first instinct is to grant Robert his privacy, leaving him to whatever it is he’s in the grips of. But the longer he tries not to look back at him, the more he can’t shake the look on his face.

So Aaron does the only thing he can think of in the moment.

He reaches out.

_Do you lie back…_

Not wanting to call attention to himself, he keeps his eyes trained forward, eyes not quite focusing on anything as his mind navigates the short distance to Robert; a lone index finger tentatively traversing the narrow space between them…

_… and think of England?_

The second he makes contact, it feels like all he can think about is the feel of Robert’s hand under his, the side of his shaky digit slowly sweeping its way across cool-yet-warm skin, making its way down the back of Robert’s fingers until he finds a space between the index and middle one…

_Do you lie back?_

Before he can think too much, Aaron slides his finger into the gap, before lightly hooking himself around the back of Robert’s much longer index, his pulse pounding furiously in his ears and drowning out any music. He lets his hand rest there for a few seconds, his entire _being_ now all too aware of the fact that the backs of the rest of his fingers are gently pressed up against Robert’s, the pressure both almost too much _and_ almost too little, but entirely too constant as even this small point of contact transforms every nerve in his body into a conduit for his nervous energy. 

_Do you lie back…_

As more time passes without any real response from Robert, he starts doubting his actions. He’s contemplating unlinking their fingers when a light breeze starts up, causing their almost entwined hands to sway slightly, loosening his grip. His mind instantly seizes on the opportunity, trying to distract him from the feelings at hand by formulating an excuse or an explanation for his actions while also anticipating the imminent disengage…

_… and think of England with fireworks flashing?_

That’s when it happens. Aaron’s finger seems like it might slip away, when all of a sudden, there’s surge of energy and Robert’s got _his_ finger hooked around his, the hold much more firm and tighter than his own.

His eyes immediately fly to his left, not caring if Robert notices him openly staring. But like before, Robert appears oblivious to the world, the only change being that his eyes are now even wetter than they’d been before.

_Do you lie back…_

Wordlessly, Aaron turns his attention back to the band in front of him, quickly realising he’s missed at least half of the song at this point. Not that he really cares. All he can focus on anyway is the warmth radiating from the tips of his fingers, his callouses pressed up against an unsurprising lack of them.

On a whim, he gives Robert’s finger a reassuring squeeze, testing out the connection between them. His answer is a fractionally loosened hold, Robert clearly reluctant to let go anytime soon.

_… learn to feign your feelings._

They just stand there, gentle swaying in time to the music, interlocked fingers dangling between them. Aaron doesn’t know why, but it sends a thrill up his spine and puts a smile onto his lips.

:::::

If he was aware of Robert during the song, he’s even more so now that it’s ended and they’re left standing there in silence, the people around them bursting into claps and cheers.

As more seconds pass, he sneaks another look at Robert, trying to see if he can even consider withdrawing his hand any time soon. But his gaze is still distant.

Eventually, the lack of music grows loud and noticeable enough that Aaron can’t help but clear his throat and let go, bringing his hand back to his side, his finger tingling from the absence of Robert’s.

He resists the urge to shake it, instead curling it into his fist, his thumb pressing against the place where Robert’s finger had held it just moments ago. He strokes it.

When he turns to face Robert, he finds that he can’t make eye contact, his cheeks still too warm at his having done what he’d done. That, and he wants to afford Robert the privacy to collect any lingering emotions he may be feeling.

So he just clears his throat.

“Uh…” He begins, eyes not focusing on any one facial feature of Robert’s in particular as he lets out an awkward laugh. It bounces off Robert and echoes in his ears, turning his cheeks even pinker than he feels they already are. “I’ll just go get us some drinks.”

He’s not sure, but he thinks he sees Robert nod in response.

:::::  
 

With that, he turns and leaves, making his way through the crowd back to the small bar area. The woman serving him is the same one from earlier. She gives him a welcoming smile. 

“Don’t mean to be rude,” she says, pouring him the first of their two pints. “But you two make a cute couple.”

It takes Aaron a second to figure out what she means, the word “couple” sounding almost like a foreign language to his committedly single ears. For a moment, he blinks at her in confusion, unsure what she means. But then she gives him a clarifying nod, and he turns to see her gaze aimed at Robert.

His brow furrows in disbelief as he turns back to face her, laughing nervously as he answers, “We’re not a couple. We’re just…”

His mind stills, unsure what to say, or how to even describe his and Robert’s relationship, knowing that it’s something just a _little_ more than regular co-workers at this point. He finally settles on something he thinks works.

“... mates.”

If the bartender has any opinions about this, she keeps it to herself, taking his response in stride. She hands him both glasses and collects the cash he’d slid over.

Aaron turns and commences the walk back, his steps deliberate and careful so as to not spill a drop. However, with each passing second, he can’t stop thinking about her words — and about what had transpired between him and Robert.

As far as he’s concerned, it wasn’t all _that_ big a deal. Just one friend helping out another through a momentary emotional rough patch. That’s all.

But the closer he gets, the more the bartender’s words begin to niggle at him, a mental itch beginning to grow with every inch of closed distance. After all, if a veritable stranger had considered his act of comfort the actions of a man in a relationship, what must Robert think?

 _What if he thinks I like_ _him?_ _What if I gave him the wrong idea?_

Aaron frowns, pausing in place.

While tonight’s invitation was made clearly enough to not be misconstrued as a date, his recent actions might have been misleading enough to give Robert the wrong idea — especially seeing as he’d been in a vulnerable place when it had happened.

He resolves to make things clearer. The _last_ thing he wants is to make things awkward between them now that they’ll be working together for the next few days. That, and end up as fodder for Robert’s column.

_How Not to Romantically Lead Your co-worker On. Step 1: Don’t hold his hand._

Aaron shakes his head and continues on his steady path. He stops a few steps short of Robert, intent on keeping a bit of extra space between them. He reaches across to hand Robert his drink.

They make eye contact as he does so, Robert’s gaze both soft _and_ open as he looks Aaron in the eye. It seems like he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t.

The moment stretches a beat longer.

Driven to clarify things between them, Aaron clears his throat and attempts a playful smile as he asks, “Everythin’ alright?”

Robert nods and smiles, looking away at long last. “Just been a long day. That’s all.”

While his eyes still appear a little wet, and there’s a bit of a slope to his shoulders, it seems like he is indeed on the emotional mend. And like he pretty much _isn’t_ interested in Aaron like that.

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Meanwhile, the band kicks off their next song, light guitar strumming filling the air between them.

Aaron inches a few steps closer before holding out his glass for Robert to tap his own against.

“I’ll drink to that.”

:::::

As the rest of the concert passes without any further incident, he begins to let go of the idea that Robert might be romantically interested in him, his fleeting glances revealing that the mood that had settled on Robert earlier, has since ebbed away, returning him to a semblance of his confident and cockier earlier self.

It’s evident in the way he actually sings along to certain songs with the rest of the crowd, even playfully bumping his hip against Aaron’s at one point, leaving him to roll his eyes and keep typing.

But it isn’t until the concert has wound to a close — and he’s furiously working on recording the last of his concert notes — that he sees the return of the old Robert Sugden, as he steps into Aaron's personal space, long arm held stretched overhead, and phone screen turned to face both of them. He just barely glances up, having decided to investigate the distracting movement to his left, when with a quick tap of his thumb, Robert manages to capture their expressions: the brow-knit confusion on Aaron’s face, and the verging-on-smirking half-smile on his own.

“Mind if I post it?” Robert asks, not looking up from his phone as he steps away. When he does, the smile on his face is crooked by way of shy. “I kind of told Vic I’d send her a photo.”

His tone is all light and casual, even bordering on flippant. Still, Aaron studies him for a minute. Once he’s confirmed that there is indeed nothing to worry about, he shrugs his agreement. That _is_ something friends do after all.

“Yeah, sure.”

He tries not to take special notice of the way Robert’s face lights up at that, his eyes warm and shining — no doubt a side effect of all the alcohol they’ve consumed in the time since — and the pleased pride in his smile. He also tries his best not to fixate on the speed with which Robert’s fingers fly across his phone, swiping and colour correcting and tagging away, his mind insisting on reliving that moment from a short while ago.

_Yep, definitely just colleagues._

Finished with his task, Robert puts his phone away, tucking the device into his inside suit jacket pocket. “Got any plans after this?”

Aaron waves his own phone in response. “Thought I’d go back to the office and file this.”

That doesn’t seem to dissuade Robert in the least. He turns and heads for the exit back into the bar.

“Perfect. I’ve got some whiskey in my desk.”

Aaron tries not to notice the slight wobble in his step.

:::::

As it turns out, Robert is telling the truth. One of his desk drawers houses not only an as yet unopened bottle of whiskey but a few expensive crystal glasses as well.

“Some publicist sent it over this morning. A ‘congratulations’ for the new job,” Robert explains, as he works on opening the bottle. He offers to pour him some.

Aaron declines.

“Still working,” he explains apologetically as he waits for his computer to awaken.

“‘s alright.” Robert tells him, a slight slur to his words as he concentrates on pouring himself more than the recommended amount. “More for me.”

Aaron opens his mouth to say something, but closes it again, not wanting to overstep his bounds.

But soon he forgets and starts typing.

  
:::::

 

It’s not until he clicks SEND and kicks his chair away from the desk in relief at a job well done, that he notices the silence that’s come over the office, not even Robert’s tipsy ramblings interrupting the lack of noise at present.

Concerned, Aaron gets to his feet, coming around to the other side to check on him. He’s surprised to find Robert not asleep, as he’d been expecting, but rather sitting there in quiet contemplation, eyes trained on the book in his hands.

Upon further inspection, he sees that it’s that same _Home Farm_ book he’d spotted that morning, Robert’s long thumb gently stroking over the small embossed red roses decorating the mostly white cover. Judging by the absent-mindedness of his actions, it’s clear this is something he’s done time and again throughout the years.

Suddenly Aaron can see why it’s so well-loved. 

“Everything okay?” He finds himself asking, even though it’s clear that it’s anything but.

Robert doesn’t look up at him, and for a minute he’s not even sure if he’s heard what he’d said. But then he replies, “Everyone thinks I became a writer because of my father…”

Aaron waits for him to finish his thought, but when he doesn’t, he steps in and gently prompts, “But you didn’t.”

Robert shakes his head, before stroking his thumb across the words, _by Sarah Connolly_. He pauses when he reaches the last letter, slowly tracing the tail of the _y_. “It was actually ‘cause of Sarah… My mum.”

“Oh.” Aaron offers, unsure what else to say. “Didn’t know about that.”

“Yeah, well, it’s why _he_ became a writer in the first place,” Robert continues, a bitter twinge underscoring his voice. “To impress her.”

It’s then that he looks up at Aaron, eyes rimmed red and bleary, face slightly flushed. It’s clear by all accounts that Robert’s passed from delightfully tipsy into full-on despondently drunk.

“Why don’t we get you home?” Aaron asks, a childhood of growing up around the alcoholically impaired in a pub kicking him into gear. “I’ll call you an Uber. What’s your address?”

Robert offers it up with no complaints, the words tumbling out of him with a drunken ease. Aaron taps it into the app on his own phone.

“He’ll be here soon,” Aaron finally informs him, tucking the device into his back pocket as he reaches forward to help him out of his chair. “Why don’t we go wait downstairs?”

For a second it seems like Robert’s going to put up some resistance, but then he doesn’t, following along with what Aaron says instead.

Only his relief is short-lived when he catches sight of Robert swaying on his feet.

Sighing inwardly, Aaron takes a step forward, hooking his left arm under Robert’s right, and stretching it across his back. In response, Robert leans his right arm across Aaron’s shoulders, somewhat shifting some of his weight onto him and letting his firm, more-muscular-than-expected body press up against Aaron’s side.

Funnily enough, he still smells of cologne, only now joined with the additional scents of whiskey and beer — not that Aaron minds. He probably smells the same.

After a cursory sweep of both their workspaces to ensure they haven’t left anything behind, Aaron guides them both to the elevators, his steps careful and heavy as he offers the occasional directive to the mildly staggering Robert.

Each time he does so, Robert’s grip across his shoulders tightens, the pressure feeling good against him a way he hasn’t experienced in a while.

Aaron shakes his head and tries not to think about it, flutters of something gathering low in his belly as he walks Robert and himself into the open elevator, his nose now more than full of Robert’s scent.

It’s only as the doors shut and the elevator starts moving that Robert finally speaks.

“I’m scared I’ll never be as good as her…” His voice is morose, matching the wetness in his eyes.

He pauses, gaze distant, even as they face the elevator doors in front of them. “ _That’s_ why I’ve never really tried.”

“You’re wrong,” Aaron finds himself saying, looking over Robert. “I’ve never read ya mum’s book, but I’m pretty sure she’d be dead proud of ya.”

He watches as Robert turns to look up at him in response, blue-green eyes widening in surprise, probably at the unexpected kindness in his tone.

“Writing like you did today takes guts — more guts than I’ve ever shown,” Aaron tells him earnestly, picking up from where he left off. “And you choosin’ to do that touched the lives of so many people. You know why? It’s ‘cause you’re a good writer, Robert. Just like your mum.”

He stares back at Robert, watching as his words slowly sink in, his face going from surprise to gratitude in rapidly growing increments.

Aaron smiles encouragingly.

“This is the part where you say, ‘thank you,’” he jokes, attempting to diffuse the heaviness of the situation — and distract from the sensation of having an entire body pressed up against him, his own chest currently able to sense when the breath moves in and out of Robert.

His eyes flash to the side, attempting to keep track of the decreasing floor numbers on the elevator screen.

“Thank you.”

The mumble is a drunken whisper; Robert’s breath tickling the left side of his face, the words grazing his outer ear as they make their way in.

A shiver runs up his spine and his knees almost buckle in place. But Robert’s grip on his shoulder only tightens, pressing their bodies even closer together.

Aaron shuts his eyes and bites his bottom lip, eager to regain control of his now jagged breathing as he manages to steady both of them and bring them back up to full height.

_He’s just a mate. That’s all._

Aaron opens his eyes. Letting out a slow breath, he turns to face Robert, wanting to check on him.

… only he finds that Robert’s gaze has since travelled downwards, focusing on nothing but his mouth as it comes back to face him, seconds slowly passing as he continues to just _stare_ at it.

Aaron licks his lips almost on instinct, his pulse already starting to pound in his ears. His mouth is drier than it’s been all night, but he swallows anyway, a desperate attempt to moisten his desire-parched throat.

His eyes flicker downward just in time to see Robert mirror his actions, pink tongue slipping out, wetting his own lips. It’s all he can think about now, Robert’s moist lips on his, his newfound anticipation overriding any previous hesitation, the discomfort in his pants growing by the second.

As if reading his mind, Robert starts to lean forward, mouth hanging open slightly, and lips drifting nearer and nearer to Aaron’s own. Unable to stop himself, Aaron moves closer to meet him, his body now reacting of its own accord; hovering closer and closer until Robert’s lips are just scant millimetres away from his face, their breaths moving in tandem, Robert’s warming his chin.

Aaron briefly glances upwards, eyes searching out Robert’s, but his attentions haven’t wavered since. So he closes his eyes, succumbing to feeling Robert’s lips ghost against his own…

The elevator _dings_.

He’s startled out of his lust-filled trance by the sound of the elevator doors opening, generic lobby jazz now grating on his sensitive ears. But Robert’s lips continue to glance against his, sending a frisson of excitement straight to his groin.

It passes a moment later, as Robert pulls away, a confused expression on his face as if questioning what could have possibly brought him here, half draped across Aaron and moments away from a kiss.

Not that it sinks in any, because soon he’s stumbling out of the elevator in his distracted drunken state.

Aaron lets out a sigh, part relief part release of tension. He knows he should go after his wandering colleague, but he can’t seem to do it quite yet. His pulse is erratic, his body too tense, and every time he so much as blinks, he can feel Robert’s lips on his.

He leans back against the back of the elevator.

They almost kissed.

They almost kissed in an elevator at _work_.

And now Robert’s almost about to exit the lobby and make his way into the wrong car.

In his back pocket, his phone buzzes, alerting him to the fact that Robert’s Uber driver is in fact here. Despite every part of his body screaming otherwise, he exits out of the elevator making his way to where Robert’s currently stood against the lobby doors, dazedly attempting to figure out the meaning of the word PULL.

Aaron ignores the sight of Robert repeatedly tracing his finger over the letters, and grabs hold of his elbow, gently guiding him through the opening in the clear glass doorway and out into the chilled night air outside.

It doesn’t quite sober him up.

As expected, the driver, an older moustachioed man by the name of Antonio, is sat there waiting in his white Toyota sedan. He flashes Aaron a friendly grin, as he turns to look at them both.

“Everything alright back there?”

“Uh yeah,” Aaron huffs, more than distracted by his efforts to get Robert sat and seatbelted in — all while not focusing on how close their faces currently are to each other, and how much his body is already calling for a repeat of earlier.

“Just helping out a friend.” 

_A friend you almost kissed._

At last, there’s a telltale _click_ , and Aaron pulls back in relief, happy to put some distance between him and Robert.

“Get home safe,” he says to no one in particular. But Robert’s already asleep, his head drooping down to his chest.

He almost reaches forward to lean his head back, but then he’s overcome with that same urge to run his fingers through that slight flop of blonde hair. He manages to resist again.

Turning to shut the car door, he catches Antonio’s eyes in the mirror and can almost hear him thinking, _Just friends, you say?_

But he pointedly ignores him, his hand gripping the outside door handle like a vice.

“You have a good night, yeah?” He wills him, before slamming the door shut, taking a step back and watching the car drive away.

The cool night air feels like a relief and a balm for his stretched tight body, every inch of him seeking some kind of relief as it stands on end, his pants more uncomfortable than they’ve been in a while.

But then he thinks of what almost happened between him and Robert and it brings him crashing back down because it can _never_ happen again.

Because this is not what friends do. And this isn’t what he does.

Not anymore.

Not after last time.

He swallows determinedly, his mind filled with a renewed desire to get things back under control.

It helps. But just barely.

Faced with his own ridiculous desires and the borderline insanity of what he’s just done, Aaron resolves himself to a long walk home, having decided that the cool night air will be the _only_ thing helping him cool off tonight — even though a twitch in his pants argues otherwise.

Shaking his head, he presses on. Only one thought running through his head like a furious percussion. 

That he, Aaron Dingle, will _not_ be kissing Robert Sugden anytime soon.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron takes Robert record shopping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended Listening:  
> 'Boom Boom Boom Boom' by the Vengaboys  
> '1957' by Milo Greene  
> 'The Shock of the Lightning' by Oasis  
> 'Do You Mind' by The xx  
> 

**CHAPTER FOUR**  

He spends all night tossing and turning and avoiding his phone as he mulls over the almost kiss, his mind constantly replaying those final moments as Robert’s lips had all but grazed his.

So when dawn finally breaks, he’s more than happy to get his tired body out of bed and out the door for his mostly daily run in the hopes that the endorphins from his post-exercise high will drown out all thoughts of a certain popular sex columnist.

And for a while, it seems to work. The fast-paced rhythm of his moving feet and the loud, bouncy music working in tandem to distract him from any thoughts besides those about the running path in front of him. But then Bear’s Den’s ‘Think of England’ comes up on his playlist — an unfortunate feature of his choice to hit SHUFFLE — and Aaron finds his focus instantly disintegrating, his finger already tingling with full-fledged nostalgia.

He stands there panting, sweat soaking through his clothes, and a stitch forming in his side. But even as he tries to ignore the recurring images his brain puts forth, he can’t help but be transported back to last night in that elevator, his nostrils filled with the heady scent of whiskey and beer and maybe traces of sandalwood, while a firm body stays pressed against his side…

Aaron shakes his head in the hopes of clearing it.

It doesn’t work.

Just as it hadn’t when he’d walked home last night. 

And just like it hadn’t when he’d forced himself to take an ice cold shower before getting into bed, his stubborn brain refusing to let himself even so much as lift a finger to find some much-needed release.

It would appear that Robert Sugden and his errant lips are truly under his skin and it’s nearly impossible to get them out. 

Which means there’s only one workable solution to the problem — and it’s _not_ quitting his job and moving to another city (though the temptation of that is really quite present).

No. It’s that they’re both going to have to be mature adults and actually discuss what has happened between them last night.

Or rather, the _lack_ of it, seeing as they haven’t actually done anything beyond stumble around together and maybe hold hands. It’s more the spirit of what _could_ have happened that needs to be discussed.

In any case, Aaron starts preparing his gentle let-down speech, the one designed to inform Robert — and all other potential romantic suitors — that he does not intend to have a relationship with him outside of simply being colleagues (or in most other cases, just one night stands). Any other desires on Robert’s part will have to be nipped in the bud.

After all, it’s one of his most closely-held cardinal rules: Aaron Dingle does not date people from work.

At least, not anymore _._

:::::

He walks into work showered and dressed and raring to give Robert a (calmly rational) piece of his mind — or at least a partial dressing down aimed at discouraging the events of last night; the words already forming on the tip of his tongue, a benefit of his having practised them repeatedly in the mirror after this morning’s shower.

But as he approaches his workspace, he’s met with a rather unusual sight: Robert Sugden already sat at his desk, looking just as well kept and possibly even _better_ for wear than he usually does. Today’s outfit is that same black leather jacket, only this time paired with another lightly speckled blue shirt and what appears to be his usual pair of indigo blue jeans.

It may not be a suit, but after last night it has pretty much the same effect.

He stands there gaping, his tongue twisting into a knot. He’d expected to have these early morning minutes — as well as the hour after work has begun — to himself, seeing as Robert’s been arriving consistently late anyway. Only, as he slowly seems to be in the process of discovering, like most things involving one Robert Sugden, it’s not really going his way.

Like yesterday, Robert just seems to sense his presence, as he turns towards him and gives Aaron a warm, if slightly subdued, smile.

“Hey.”

Aaron finds himself matching that same level of energy, only in his case more it’s more nervous as he drops his backpack by his desk and nods back in greeting.

“Hey.”

The silence stretches out between them, thick and syrupy, coating them in an uncomfortable stickiness neither of them knows how to address.

“We need to talk,” Aaron finally declares, the memory of his somewhat rehearsed words helping him take charge and cut through the silence — even if the dry raspiness in them undercuts it somewhat. “About last night.”

Robert’s face falls, a flash of a grimace appearing on it, as he winces slightly at his words. “Thought you might say that.”

He appears about to say more, so Aaron cuts him off, glancing around at the slowly filling office around them. “Why don’t we go somewhere a bit more private?”

_Don’t want everyone else hearing our business._

There’s a funny look on Robert’s face but he agrees with a nod, following Aaron to a little alcove by the conference room nearby.

Once there, Aaron turns around to face him, only to find Robert standing just a scant few inches away, as if he hasn’t learned last night’s lesson.

Still, Aaron concedes, despite it irking his current Robert-related sensitivities, their current positions do offer them a modicum of privacy — as well as a whiff of Robert’s strongly scented tea tree shampoo, the smell filling Aaron’s nostrils as he continues standing there.

But he tries not to focus on that.

“You were about to say something?” Aaron prompts, nodding his head and crossing his arms in front of him.

He watches as Robert’s eyes do a rapid sweep of his black hoodie and jeans-clad person, freckled cheeks turning a light shade of pink not long after.

“Uh yeah,” Robert begins, not quite making eye contact. “I wanted to say-“

“There you are!”

Jai’s voice is loud in Aaron’s ears as he makes his way over to them, his stern tone a far cry from their more hushed conversation. “What are you doing hiding here?”

Aaron exchanges a wide-eyed, surprised look with Robert, unsure of what to say and still a little surprised at the interruption.

But before he can answer, Jai rattles on, “Never mind. Listen, I’ve got some great news. Chrissie _also_ loves that sexy song list idea you had! But she thinks it might work better if _Robert_ writes it. So, Aaron, you’ll be working with him. Helping him out with all that music expertise.”

He barely has a moment to catch Robert’s reaction before Jai continues, “Now, I know it's short notice, but Chrissie wants to run it this weekend. Since tomorrow's Friday, I’ve spoken to the other editors and cleared up your schedules for the rest of the day as well as tomorrow. That way you can file it in the evening.”

He pauses, taking a second to catch his breath, before he asks, “You got that?”

Jai doesn’t wait for an answer, simply taking off, a steam train intent on making its schedule.

Aaron turns to face Robert, mirroring his actions as he sways awkwardly in place.

The silence returns once again, a thick and heavy blanket wrapping them within its folds. Aaron nods distractedly, his insides beginning to churn the longer their almost-kiss goes undiscussed.

_How are we supposed to work together if we can’t even have a conversation?_

Thankfully, Robert decides to take charge.

“Sorry about that,” he says with a frown, worried creases appearing in his forehead that Aaron hasn’t seen before. “Didn’t mean to steal your story.”

Aaron shakes his head, barely able to bring himself to care, seeing as they’ve both got bigger, more awkward fish to fry. “Doesn’t really matter. Wasn’t my idea anyway.”

More silence.

Aaron bites his lip, trying to think of a way to delicately broach the subject. But then Robert clears his throat.

“And about before…” He says, his eyes once again locked with Aaron’s, his cheeks reverting back to the same pinkish tinge. “I just wanted to say sorry about last night. That’s not the kind of guy I am.”

This time it’s Aaron who’s rendered gobsmacked and speechless as he simply stands there nodding. It takes him a few seconds to say, “Uh, yeah. Thanks.”

“It shouldn’t even have happened in the first place,” Robert continues, words drenched with remorse.

Aaron nods again, agreeing with the sentiment even if the words cause a hollow feeling in his chest. He moves his hands into his hoodie pockets, resisting the urge to rub his knuckles against his sternum.

“I mean, who even makes their new coworker pay for their Uber ride home?” Robert continues, now on a bit of a roll. “And right after he’s taken them out to a free concert!”

Aaron almost does a bit of a double-take, unable to believe Robert’s words. But he can see from the way he’s smiling sheepishly and looking back at him apologetically that he truly does believe that _this_ is the thing he most needs to make amends for regarding last night.

_Doesn’t he remember?_

So after a quick study of his features — one last-ditch attempt to surmise if Robert’s lying — Aaron goes along with it, nodding in sympathetic agreement as he says, “Yeah, well you were pretty out of it.”

That only turns Robert a deeper shade of pink, the hue softening up his features further as he nervously scratches at the back of his neck, before sliding both hands into his front jeans pockets.

“Sorry about that,” he says again, eyes trained down at their shoes. “I don’t normally get that drunk.” 

 _First time for a lot of things_. 

Aaron nods even as Robert continues, “I swear I hold my alcohol better.

He doesn’t know why — maybe he’s feeling generous, maybe he just wants to give Robert a break, or maybe he just wants to forget that the events of last night even happened — but Aaron finds himself smiling back and teasing, “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

The relief that echoes back to him is palpable, confirming that he’s made the right decision, Robert already looking back up at him, his expression more relaxed and much more casual.

“Just tell me how much I owe you, and I’ll pay you back,” Robert tells him, straightforwardly earnest as he breaks into a tiny smile, “Or at least buy you coffee for a week.”

Aaron snorts in amusement, his own sense of relief unrolling his previously wound up sense of humour. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Robert jokes back.

They stand there smiling at each other, the vibe between them having ebbed back to pleasant and friendly.

“Guess we should head back then,” Aaron suggests nervously, feeling a bit silly for suggesting they come out here in the first place. Suddenly Robert’s initial puzzlement makes a lot more sense.

“Yeah,” Robert nods, rocking slightly from his heels onto his toes and back again. “Guess we should.”

He’s fairly certain the smile on his face as they turn to head back is one of relief.  


:::::  
 

It’s not long into the short walk back to their desks that he realises that it was a terrible idea to let Robert walk _behind_ him, the narrow passageway dictating that they walk in a single file instead of side by side. As a result, he can’t help but be aware of Robert’s presence, even the smallest of movements filling his senses like real-life HD surround sound. 

It’s loud and unforgiving; the sound of leather shuffling against cotton fabric as Robert’s arms swing loosely by his side, the light breeze generated by his movements sending cool tingles across the back of Aaron’s hands.

He’s busy focusing on keeping his hands as still and as close to his person as possible when Robert suddenly speaks, his words carrying directly into Aaron’s left ear.

“So, when do you want to start working on that article?”

Aaron closes his eyes, doing his best to clamp down on the full body shiver that’s running through him, before replying, “Hows about in an hour? Got some stuff to take care of first.”

“Sounds good,” Robert replies, his voice somehow even closer than before.

Aaron’s about to start outlining how they should tackle it, his mind rapidly searching for some sort of distraction, when the back of Robert’s hand brushes against his mid-stride, sending a shock wave rippling up his spine and causing his heart to leap up into his throat.

Almost instantly he’s transported back to last night, when Robert’s finger had wrapped around his, the feeling both heart-pounding and grounding in equal measure.

When he finally manages to shake it off a few seconds later, he discovers that Robert’s talking — something about booking them a conference room so they can sit and bounce ideas off each other.

Mouth dry, and growing increasingly flustered, Aaron manages to mumble an affirmative response, his mind already careening back towards the memory of Robert’s lips from late last night, trying to line it up with his lack of memory from a few minutes ago, wishing more than ever that there had been one.

Because at least then he’d be able to properly air out his frustrations with Robert, before hopefully agreeing to resume their previous coworker relationship. Instead, he’s just stuck with a set of memories he can’t even _begin_ to unpack because the central star of them insists on constantly standing and leaning and stepping into his personal space.

Aaron sighs inwardly, wishing Robert wasn’t always so much himself; all tall and blonde, with long, wandering fingers, always so utterly noticeable, even when quiet and mostly keeping to himself.

It’s at that very moment that Robert starts humming absentmindedly, the tune recognisably one of the songs from last night, it’s melody filling Aaron’s ears and calling attention to the slight husk in his voice.

And just like that, it’s all too much.

Aaron stops short at the entrance of the passageway, just a few short feet away from their desks, as he decides that maybe _now_ would be a good time to pay Adam a visit. Only before he can announce his change of plans, Robert walks straight into him, his body colliding into Aaron’s, his hand bumping against Aaron’s bum.

“Oh, sorry,” Robert mumbles apologetically, ceasing his annoying humming as he no doubt backs away, his leather jacket and jeans loudly shuffling in his haste.

Aaron stands there stiffly, trying not to physically react _too_ much as he waves him off, doing his best to keep the slow breath he lets out under wraps.

“No worries,” he lies, not turning around to acknowledge Robert — or their little mishap — lest he see that Aaron’s face is already a deep beetroot red. “I just remembered I have something I have to do. See you in a bit, yeah?”

Without waiting for an answer Aaron turns to his right, setting off in the direction of Adam’s desk and trying his best not to look like he’s fleeing the scene.

  
:::::  


Adam’s not at his desk when he arrives, though based on the mess currently strewn on it, it’s hard to tell if he even came in today. In that regards he and his best mate really are peas in a pod — only Aaron’s mess tends to be more work related, while Adam’s is a jumbled collection of ticket stubs, takeaway wrappers and other food-related junk. Thinking back, Aaron can’t remember if he’s ever seen the bottom of Adam’s desk. For a second he smirkingly thinks of inviting Victoria round to the office, if only to get his best friend to tidy up. 

That wipes the smile off his face as he remembers the reason he’s come running here in the first place: Robert.

He sighs, contemplating leaving Adam a note saying he’d stopped by, but looking around he can’t seem to track down either a pen, a notepad, or any real place to leave it.

So he sighs and turns back, resigned to having to face Robert, his annoying habits, and lack of memories all by himself.

_Maybe I should just forget what happened as well. At least then things can get back to normal._

But then he thinks of Robert’s hands and his lips and the way he sometimes moves, thoughtless and careless in his actions, like a model unaware of his own grace.

His footsteps grow slower the more he keeps thinking, the frown on his face growing longer by the minute, even as he’s opted to take the long way round to their shared space; another stalling tactic to delay being faced with Robert’s presence.

_I’ll just have to be careful next time. Make him respect my space._

Aaron nods to himself, resolving to make it his new goal to maintain a professional distance from Robert Sugden at all times. Because Robert’s actions are only a big deal if _he_ makes it a big deal. And he can’t really complain if he hasn’t made much of an effort to even try and put up with him… right?

 _Right_.

“Oi, Aaron!” Tracy’s voice rings out across the office space, belatedly reminding him that the long way round just happens to pass by her desk.

He considers pretending he didn’t hear it and continuing on his way, but then she calls at him again, her loud voice echoing in the open floor planned space around them and causing several of their busy coworkers to look up at them — even Cain, who throws him a glare from where he’s on the phone in his secluded corner.

He’s left with no other choice than to turn around, go over, and see what she wants.

“What’s up?” Aaron asks when he arrives at Tracy’s desk, not really in the mood to talk.

Without any warning, she smacks him.

“What was that for?” Aaron asks, rubbing at his arm.

“For not tellin’ us you were goin’ to a concert with Robert!” Tracy scolds him, as if it’s obvious he’s committed a major faux pas.

She points at her screen, where there’s an image from Robert’s Instagram, that same selfie from last night, with Robert flashing his million dollar smile at the camera, while Aaron’s face just holds a grumpy grimace, his brow remaining furrowed and his lips turned downward. The entire image gives off an impression of a friendship Aaron realises can very well still be there, if he’s willing to give it a try.

Beside it is a caption that reads: 

 **robertsugden** Special thanks to my new colleague Aaron Dingle. What this guy  
doesn’t know about music, you probably don’t WANT to know. Make sure you go  
check out his work!

Something inside Aaron warms. But he doesn’t have time to examine it before Tracy’s speaking again.

“You know, at least if you’d told us, we could have met you there,” she continues, clearly exasperated with him. “Some friend _you_ are. Look at Finn, he’s crushed!”

Aaron looks over at Finn, but he’s got his headphones on and he’s busy typing away at his computer. For a moment, he thinks of both of them joining him and Robert at the bar last night, Finn with his snarky, self-deprecating one-liners and Tracy with her loud booming laugh and casual bicep brushes, and all he can feel is a rush of hot relief at the fact that they weren’t present after all. That it was just him and Robert, like he’d originally intended.

“It was just some last minute thing,” he says, lying for the second time that day. “Didn’t even think he’d come.”

He shrugs to underscore his point, which seems to mollify her somewhat because the next second she’s stepping even closer to him, a hungry smile on her face, like she’s angling for something he has.

Aaron gulps, already not liking where this is going.

“So…” She whispers eagerly, clearly excited to know whatever his answer is supposed to be. “Did Robert say anythin’ about her?”

“Did Robert say anythin’ about _who_?” Aaron asks, as uncomfortable and confused as ever.

“Uh, that woman he left the bar with the other night?” Tracy replies like it’s obvious. “You know, all redheaded and skinny like some model?”

Aaron just shakes his head and replies, “We just talked about music. That’s all.”

It’s not exactly a lie. But it’s not exactly the whole truth either.

And it just seems to incense Tracy further as she lets out a frustrated sigh. She picks up her phone, swipes on it a little, before finally shoving it in Aaron’s face.

It takes a few seconds until he registers the two people portrayed in the dim bar lighting and poor resolution: Robert from the night of that work party, and, as Tracy had said, a redheaded woman in a pink dress on his arm, both of them standing close and smiling at each other.

Even Aaron has to admit they look like a very handsome couple. Something inside him twists at the thought.

“He really didn’t say anythin’?” Tracy asks incredulously, swiping to reveal another photo, this one of Robert grinning and looking noticeably pleased with himself as the woman’s head tips back in a laugh.

It looks flirtier than the first one. The twisting intensifies.

“Why do you even care?” He asks roughly, shoving both hands into his hoodie pockets.

He looks back at that picture in front of him, his annoyance from a few minutes back now finding its target in the image of Robert Sugden — in particular the smile caused by that other woman, his brain automatically comparing it to the one from their selfie, and deeming it the same.

“Uh, because it’s my job?” Tracy points out, another awkward dose of home truth. “That and I need to know he’s single before I try and set Finn up with him.”

“Isn’t that conflict of interest, or something?” Aaron questions his annoyance now spreading to Tracy and (less relatedly) Finn.

“Not really, because Robert _is_ a public figure,” Tracy answers, reminding him why she’s the best at her job. “Besides Robert’s always writin’ about who he’s sleepin’ with. Hardly reckon he’d stop now. For all we know his next column might be about last night’s ‘special person.’”

Aaron throws her an alarmed look, even as he tries to get his breathing under control, afraid that she might somehow sense his and Robert's almost kissing.

But Tracy just continues, “What? Don’t tell me you’re surprised! Robert Sugden always ends his night kissin’ at least one person. It’s not like it’s a secret!”

One quick Google search of “Robert Sugden + Kiss” later and Aaron’s confronted with a number of random tabloid photos of Robert lip-locked with a variety of different men and women.

_And last night it was almost me._

Now the flash of annoyance is for himself, and for the amount of time he’s wasted worrying and fretting about all this. Time that could have better spent working.

“And you still want to set him up with Finn?” He asks, surprised she thinks Robert’s good enough for her friend despite everything she knows about him.

“Well, he _has_ kind of changed for the better,” Tracy reasons optimistically. “I mean, that column yesterday? The old Robert would _never_ have written somethin’ like that. That’s why I’m tellin’ ya, he must be seeing someone. Someone he’s willing to _change_ for.”

An alert goes off on both their phones. Aaron immediately slaps a hand on where it is in his pockets in the hopes of silencing it further. But thankfully Tracy’s too preoccupied with whatever Robert’s done to notice that his has buzzed as well.

The last thing Aaron needs is for her to know that he’s been tracking Robert’s social media use too.

“Ooh. Looks like Robert’s postin’ again!” Tracy says, as she logs onto Twitter.

Despite himself, Aaron bends over her shoulder to see what Robert’s latest post says. It's a reply on someone else's photo, a young dark-haired man with scruffy hair and neatly trimmed beard squinting into the camera on a beach, with what appears to be fireworks behind him and a pitcher of sangria in front of him as he attempts to cheers the camera. As sort of drunk as he appears, Aaron can't help but note how handsome he is.   


**@ChefMike:**  The reason why I woke up like this :( #ThrowbackThursday

 **@RobertSugden:** @ChefMike What a great night! Can't believe it was a year ago. We should definitely celebrate some time soon ;)    


Aaron rolls his eyes at the entire exchange, his annoyance once again aimed squarely at Robert and his annoying tendency to flirt.

“What do you think of this?” Tracy asks, not really looking up at him. “I know it’s not that lady, but he’s still pretty flirty here…”

Aaron scratches above his already raised eyebrow before deciding he’s had enough. He doesn’t need to stare at all these images and tweets of Robert Sugden when he’s got the real thing waiting to annoy him at his desk.

So he tells her as such, “I’ve got actual work to do.”

When Tracy doesn’t respond, Aaron takes that as his cue to leave.

As he continues the walk back to his desk, he replays his conversation with her — now supplemented with images of Robert and all those other people, talking and touching and hugging and _kissing_ — steadily getting incensed at his own rampant stupidity.

He’d spent all night, and even lost sleep, worrying about that drunken almost kiss, only to discover that it probably meant next to nothing to Robert, seeing as that’s just another Wednesday night as far as he’s concerned.

 _Well, that’s it_ , he decides, with a heavy kind of finality. _No more worrying about Robert Sugden. Only focusing on work._

He rounds the corner and catches sight of Robert sitting at his desk, headphones on and staring at his phone with a soft smile, no doubt admiring an image of, or maybe a message from, the latest object of his affection — perhaps that woman Tracy had shown him. He watches as Robert gently swivels his chair from side to side.

The twisting returns, his stomach tying itself into knots, but Aaron just gives himself a reaffirming nod, banishing it away. He’s made himself a promise and he intends to keep it.

His mind becomes clear, his focus sharpens.

_No more distractions. Just work._

He walks up to Robert, actually choosing to go over to his desk rather than just standing over at his own.

The music — the same Bear’s Den song from earlier — is loud enough that Aaron can hear it through Robert’s headphones.

As a result, he doesn’t notice Aaron’s approach until he’s actually standing over him, his shadow falling across Robert’s lap. Aaron watches as he flinches and tries to put his phone away quickly — probably up to no good — before taking off his headphones and looking up at him.

“Hey…” Robert greets softly, letting his voice trail off into silence.

They remain locked in their current positions, Robert blinking up at him in flustered surprise, while Aaron looms over him with hot annoyance rising in his chest as he thinks of Robert’s probably breaking this woman’s heart by flirting with other people like he’s been doing.

But seeing as they’re nothing more than co-workers with a job to do, he decides it’s best to rein in his feelings, watching in satisfaction as Robert’s cheeks start to redden. Pleased with the level of induced discomfort caused by his presence, he gruffly throws out his question.

“You ready?”

:::::  


It’s harder than he could have ever anticipated because even though the conference room Robert booked is wide and spacious with more than enough chairs, he still chooses to sit right next to Aaron, elbows rubbing and knees bumping every time he turns to talk to him.

Which is a lot.

Because Robert is clearly _very_ excited about this assignment and he’s shown up with what feels like a million ideas.

Only as he proceeds to read song suggestions aloud off his phone (“I was thinking ‘Let’s Get It On’ by Marvin Gaye, oh and ‘Sexual Healing’ also by Marvin Gaye.”) each with a growing sense of enthusiasm and an ever-widening half smile, Aaron is steadily pained to see that they’re not very good ones.

At least as far as _he’s_ concerned.

Because they’d all be perfectly serviceable if Robert was writing with anyone else.

However, as Aaron has to remind his traitorous mind, _Robert isn’t, is he_?

No. He’s writing this with Aaron, and if there’s one thing Robert has managed to get very, _very_ right, it’s the fact that Aaron Dingle knows his music. Because he does. And according to his professional opinion, none of these songs even deserve to make the final cut.

“Did you just suggest ‘Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom!!!’ by the _Vengaboys_?” Aaron interrupts, absolutely baffled at the latest words out of Robert’s already ridiculous mouth. He turns to actually look Robert in the face, wanting to check that he’s serious. “Why on Earth would you think _that’s_ sexy?”

“Well, it’s _about_ sex, isn’t it?” Robert responds, making it clear that he doesn’t see a problem with this suggestion. “And we have _69_ slots to fill… Thanks for that by the way.”

“Yeah, but that’s not what the assignment is, is it?” Aaron points out, a little annoyance leaking into his voice. “We’re supposed to find songs that get you in the mood _for_ sex.”

He watches as Robert’s face falls, but it’s hard to fully take it in when his mind brings up the image of Robert and the other woman sharing a laugh. Aaron feels his cheeks heat up.

Looking for a way to channel out the frustrations of having gone back on his promise to himself, he takes out his own phone. After a few seconds of tapping and a little strategic sliding, he hits PLAY and places it in the centre of the table.

Almost instantly the room is filled with the thumping bass and the frenetic energy that is the 1998 Vengaboys classic, it’s words already hooking into Aaron’s mind like the welcome distraction he needs. His mood starts to lighten.

_Boom boom boom boom..._

He turns to look at Robert again, only to find that he looks a lot pinker. They lock eyes, the blush currently illuminating Robert’s freckled cheeks causing the blue in his eyes to pop. A smile spreads across his face as Robert starts to look more sheepish by the second.

_I want you in my room..._

Aaron grins and shakes his head. Curious if Robert’s had enough yet, he leans forward, raising his voice even as he mostly growls his question into Robert’s ear, “Would you really want to have sex to _this_?”

_Let’s spend the night together..._

As he pulls back he sees that Robert can’t stand to meet his eyes, his cheeks taking on more of a reddish tinge. He reaches up and scratches the back of his head, while mostly avoiding Aaron’s face…

_From now until forever..._

When he finally does meet Aaron’s eyes and replies, his words are too soft, drowned out by the music as well as the friction in their forearms, which rub against each other again as Robert brings his hand back down; black leather sliding against a cotton-polyester blend hoodie sleeve.

_Boom boom boom boom-_

Aaron swallows before reaching out and hitting pause on the song, cutting it off mid-beat. The rush of silence that follows is a relief, even though it seems to echo — supplied in part by his mind — the next line of the song, a by-product of the track’s ubiquitous presence at every party in the late ‘90s.

But he pushes that aside as he turns to Robert expectantly, waiting for him to repeat his answer.

Catching his drift, Robert purses his lips before once again saying, “No, I guess not.”

“Also, none of this Salt-N-Pepa’s ‘Push It’ or Marvin Gaye stuff,” Aaron continues with a nod. “You’re tryin’ to get someone into bed. Not laugh ‘em out.”

He reaches out and returns his phone to his pocket, as if underscoring his point.

It’s then that Robert clears his throat and asks, “What songs would _you_ have sex to?”

The question hits Aaron right in his core.

When he turns to look at Robert, any traces of his blushing embarrassment or playful teasing are gone, leaving behind an honest intensity in his now greenish gaze that Aaron has never seen before, along with a tight clenching of his jaw muscle.

_Guess he finally decided to take this seriously._

Aaron lets the words to Robert’s question hang in the air between them, the silence amplifying them as the request reverberates through Aaron’s head, erasing any remaining fragments of the Vengaboys.

He bites the inside of his cheek and gazes back at Robert thoughtfully, thinking back to a time when the answers would have come fast and furious, his musically hardwired mind hardly waiting a few seconds before it started compiling a sexy playlist for whenever he’d been attempting to attract a man into his bed.

But it’s been a while since he’s felt the need to do that for anyone, and all his partners since have been no strings attached one night stands — none of which have required, or even inspired, him to put in that kind of effort, even if he’d felt so inclined.

As a result, Aaron knows he’s grown _more_ than a little rusty at coming up with answers to this particular question, and what’s worse is, he now has to do it for an assignment.

An assignment he’s working on with Robert Sugden…

He sighs, knowing that pretty much settles it.

If he’s going to do this, he needs to do this right. And for that, he needs access to what he considers _real_ music, as well as some high-quality listening options.

_Time for a little field trip._

He’s so energised by even the idea of his destination, that he doesn’t even register the renewed friction caused by his getting to his feet. In fact, Aaron’s almost out the door before an internal penny seems to drop and he stops and turns around to look back at a very puzzled looking Robert, who sits there blinking and probably still awaiting his answer.

“You coming, or what?”  


:::::  


It doesn’t take long for the bus to arrive, but it does take Robert a full 10 minutes into the estimated 45-minute ride to give up on his repeated questioning, clearly sick of getting only a repeated, “You’ll see” in reply.

Any remorse Aaron feels for winding Robert up goes out the window fast, as he starts to play off his refusal to answer by flitting between wild and ludicrous guesses (“We going to Manchester Museum! Chetham's Library!”) and slightly miffed requests for information — the latter is delivered with a pout that causes Aaron’s stomach to _swoop_ just a little.

The last thing he hears before he puts on his headphones is a grumblingly muttered, “We could have at least taken an Uber.”

Aaron cracks a smile at that, despite being well aware that they’ll spend the entire duration of this journey on their feet, holding onto the hanging handle straps overhead as they attempt to maintain their balances. But at least _this_ way they avoid paying surge pricing during the noonday rush.

Well, that and his firm belief that some things, like this particular trip he’s bringing Robert along on, need to be done right — if only to respect the ritual sacredness of it. So if that means getting on a crowded city bus in the middle of the afternoon with a confused and bordering-on-cranky coworker, then so be it. Aaron Dingle alters his habits for no man.

However, he _does_ tighten his grip on the seat handle in front of him and hit PLAY on his specially curated commute playlist. As Milo Greene’s ‘1957’ kicks off, he puts his phone away and looks up, eyes falling right on Robert, who’s standing right in front of him, too busy scrolling and tapping away on his phone to make an effort to grab hold of anything. Aaron shakes his head, not that Robert sees.

_Probably too busy on Twitter._

Right on cue, his music is interrupted by a notifying _bing_.

Aaron takes his phone out of his pocket and pauses the song before pulling up the app to the sight of rapidly increasing notifications of likes, retweets, and replies at a tweet Robert’s mentioned him in.  


**@RobertSugden:** Pretty sure @AaronDingle has kidnapped me. Please send help.  


Aaron rolls his eyes and looks up to see Robert gazing back at him with a cheeky smile. Shaking his head, he types out and tweets back a response.  


**@AaronDingle:** @RobertSugden It’s not kidnapping if you buy your own bus pass.  


His feeling of smugness lasts all of five seconds before he gets another tiny notification. He taps on it.  


**@RobertSugden:** @AaronDingle It is if the madman you’re with won’t tell you where you’re going!  


Looking up, he sees Robert shrug as if Aaron left him no choice, the twinkle in his eyes daring him to respond.

And because Aaron Dingle doesn’t back down from a challenge — even a meaningless one online — he shoots back another response, making this officially the longest Twitter conversation he’s ever been a part of.  


**@AaronDingle:** @RobertSugden The REAL mad man’s the one who can get off this bus at any time, and still chooses not to.  


He’s about to grin at Robert in triumph, when the bus lurches to a stop and the momentum sends everyone flying — including Robert, who is thrown against Aaron’s chest.

For a moment he can’t breathe, his mind preoccupied with nothing else but the hard length of Robert’s entire body pressed up against his own, one of his legs stood between both of Aaron’s and his chest radiating body heat in waves.

Aaron swallows roughly, eager to avoid embarrassment by eye contact. He wills his body not to react, even as it relives memories of last night. He slowly glances upward…

… where he’s met with a pair of sparkling green-blue eyes and a clear reminder of his and Robert’s height difference. He bites his lip nervously. A slow, shuddering minty breath falls on the left side of his face, the damp warmth of it tickling his ear and neck.

He braces himself as a shiver runs up his spine.

They stand there like that for a few seconds, neither of them really moving, or trying to look away; the breaths moving in and out of them in sync, their chests rising and falling almost against each other.

It’s only when Robert finally moves his leg, his thigh grazing Aaron’s, that the shock of the situation starts to wear off, with Aaron realising that the bus has started moving again — and that his hands have found purchase on Robert’s waist, his fingers having slid past the opening of his leather jacket to grip at his firm, cotton covered sides in an attempt to steady him.

As they continue to lock eyes, Aaron gently tightens his grip, causing the well-fitting fabric to bunch up a little as his hands wrap around the well-defined panes of Robert’s lower torso, knuckles hugging the muscular curve of his lower back, resting on the dip between his waist and hips.

He hears Robert’s breath in his ear as he swallows tensely, working to help manoeuvre Robert backwards and onto his feet, while trying to ignore the chill up his front and the ache in his chest at the loss of all that heat and pressure. He’s about to let go when the bus comes to another stop, causing Robert’s stance to wobble. Immediately, Aaron’s grip tightens, Robert’s hands flying up to clasp at his elbows, both of them frozen in position.

Robert lets out a shaky breath — no doubt his way of overcoming the nerves from this most recent shock — tickling something deep within Aaron; that small part of him that appreciates when careless people on commutes get their just desserts.

And this was not once, but _twice_.

At least now Robert’s learned to hold on to something, Aaron notices, watching as long fingers find their way around a leather strap overhead, Robert’s phone nowhere in sight.

Instead, his complete attention is on Aaron, and it’s only making him more unable to contain the nervous laughter rising up from deep inside him, his own way of dealing with this entire surprising ordeal.

It’s instantly contagious, with Robert bursting into a nervous but relieved smile as he then proceeds to join in, lips pink, and cheeks pinker, his wry laughs mingling with Aaron’s raspier ones.

Eventually, the moment passes and they both catch their breath. But there seems to be something about Aaron that Robert can’t let go, as he continues to watch him thoughtfully. A pit forms in Aaron’s stomach as he thinks of last night and then again this morning and how Robert’s memory is possibly filling in the blanks.

But that’s when Robert breaks his silence, his body gently swaying with the bus’ momentum as he asks, "So, you finally ready to tell me where we’re going?”

He can’t stop the words spilling out of his mouth, as firm and unyielding as before — only now delivered with a mischievous smile that fights its way to his lips within seconds.

“You’ll see.”

He lets out a smug laugh at the return of Robert’s honest to goodness pout, before once again fishing out his phone.

Aaron smiles and hits PLAY again.  


:::::  
 

The shop is everything like he remembers from his last visit a few months ago; tucked into a little forgotten side street off a main road, with rows of vintage t-shirts and record sleeves on display in the storefront window and a sign hanging above it that reads, “The Vinyl Countdown” in bright red letters. 

He smiles at it fondly as he brings them to a halt outside.

“So is this it?” Robert asks, a little out of breath from his rush to follow Aaron off the bus. “Some old record shop?”

Aaron frowns at the unimpressed note in Robert’s voice.

“It’s not just _any_ old record shop,” he corrects, his tone harsher than intended. “It’s the best one in Manchester.”

He can feel Robert’s eyes on him, gazing at him questioningly.

“It’s also my favourite,” he concedes quietly, turning to meet his eyes.

That seems to shift something in Robert, his expression softening as he turns to look at the shop with slowly dawning awareness on his face; finally giving it the respect it deserves.

Pleased with this improvement of a response, Aaron smiles, ready to furnish him with an explanation.

“If you want someone to sleep with ya, you need the right music,” he begins, doing his best to underscore the last point. “And if you want the right music, you need a proper sound.”

He gazes back at the storefront, at the way the midday sun causes their faces to be reflected in the window, two pairs of eyes staring back at him amidst a collection of band logos and record covers.

“And if you want the proper sound,” Aaron finally announces, with a bit of a dramatic flourish. “Then you need the perfect place.”

He doesn’t wait for Robert as he goes in.  


:::::  


The inside is how he remembers it as well; soft fluorescent lighting illuminating the dense collection of records and musical paraphernalia packed into every nook and cranny in the surface area available. The only thing that keeping the whole inventory from devolving into chaotic clutter is the owner’s meticulous organisation skills.

A bell on the door rings from above as he and Robert make their entrance, but it’s almost instantly drowned out by the sound of Oasis’ ‘The Shock of the Lightning’ playing on the speakers overhead.

Aaron pauses in the doorway, smiling and shaking his head, before he slowly makes his way over to a rack on the left side of the store; fingers trailing over the edges of the record jackets in his wake, eyes taking in the black and white photos and newspaper clippings of bands from the 80’s and 90’s plastered all over the walls, a collage of local musical history.

As he turns to look at the other side of the store, taking a few steps towards the freestanding display case in the middle, he sees that Robert’s standing directly on the other side — and that he’s watching him, a soft smile on his lips.

“What?” Aaron asks, suddenly self-conscious. He looks down at himself to see if he might have gotten anything on his black skinny jeans or zipped up black hoodie, but both are as clean as they’d been when he’d put them this morning.

So he shoots him a questioning look, but Robert just looks back at him and teases, “Sorry. Didn’t know you could smile like that.”

Aaron rolls his eyes, not even Robert’s attempt at a joke able to dampen his good mood.

But nevertheless, he still shrugs, and shakes his head, actually feeling open to a little sharing.

“It’s kind of like comin’ home.” 

Robert nods thoughtfully at that, turning to look around the store, eyes lightly sweeping over the colourful displays around them in appraising admiration before coming back to rest on Aaron.

“How’d you even find this place?”

Aaron thinks back to a rainy night almost five years ago, when his 21-year-old self had been more than a little musically obsessed and completely hellbent on making a good impression on a first date, and smiles.

“I’d been looking for an old record, when someone mentioned this place,” he explains, lips curving upward at the memory. “Called them up, and it turned out they actually had it. Haven’t stopped coming here since.”

He’s surprised to see Robert chuckle and shake his head. “So you’ve always been a bit of a music snob.”

Aaron simply snorts. “It’s called having standards.”

A beat passes between them, Robert raising his eyebrows in disbelieving mock challenge. Aaron shakes his head, succeeding for a second, before giving in to the matching grin that’s spread onto both their faces; his pleased at his own response, whereas Robert’s is filled with tickled amusement.’

_Maybe he’s not so bad._

“But yeah,” Aaron continues, clearing his throat, as he picks up a random record in front of him, his mind barely processing the artist, his eyes just skimming over the album artwork and name. “Hung around here enough that the owners actually offered me a job at the shop after I graduated college. Kept doin’ that until I started getting regular freelance gigs.”

He puts the record back where it came from.

“You never mention that,” Robert replies, his head turning a little to the side, as if Aaron’s some kind of object to be studied. “Not even in your bio.”

Feeling the flutters of self-consciousness again, Aaron jokingly tries to redirect the conversation. “Not everyone _has_ to write about themselves.” 

He means it as a tease, but it comes out more of a criticism. Not that it seems to faze Robert, who once again his holding his gaze. This time he earnestly replies, “Yeah. But maybe some people should.”

A blush of heat runs from his cheeks to his ears, his pulse starting to speed up. Aaron looks away, swallowing roughly as he mumbles, “Think I’ll just stick to music.”

Robert just sighs, before wistfully responding, “That’s a real shame.”

Aaron turns away after that, signalling the end of their conversation as he attempts to focus on the task at hand: searching the side of the display rack in front of him for the albums he’d mentally listed on the bus ride over. Each time he finds one he’s looking for, he gathers it up, tucking the cardboard covered vinyl disc under his left elbow, the collection steadily growing with each successful find.

However the more he tries not to think about Robert, the more he starts to dwell on his ludicrous suggestion, his eyes constantly flicking up to look over at him, trying not to watch him as he browses the records in front of him.

Finally, Aaron just gives up, stands there biting his lip and trying not to look like he’s staring, surprised at how natural Robert looks in this space; hair now a lighter blonde under the store’s white lighting, relaxed leather-jacketed shoulders matching the framed album covers and photos on the wall. He looks like he might have stepped out of one of them; a real-life substitute for one of those larger than life figures. Not that there’s much of a difference.

Aaron swallows nervously, about to look away again, when he notices the record Robert’s holding. The spark of recognition is so sharp and sudden that he can barely hold his tongue. 

“Otherkin?” He asks, voice gruff as he almost shouts his shock across the space

It takes Robert a second, but he immediately looks over, quirking an eyebrow up at him. He looks pleased, almost happy. 

“You sound surprised.”

Aaron presses his lips together and shakes his head, an actual attempt to not come across as rude. “Didn’t think you’d heard of them, that’s all.”

Robert’s smile turns from pleased to proud, as he continues to hold his gaze.

“Gave them a listen after I read your review last year,” he tells him, inching his way into smugness before stopping right on the precipice. “As per usual… you were correct. They’re really quite good.”

Aaron finds himself grinning back in pride, never sick of unexpectedly hearing his opinions validated — even if it is by Robert Sugden.

“Thanks,” he finally tells him, nodding his gratitude.

Robert smiles in acceptance, before finally breaking his silence. “I’m actually done.”

He eyes the record Aaron’s just picked up, unaware that his hands had just fancied a fidget. “You still lookin’ or…?”

Surprised by the question, Aaron looks down, where he’s met with the black and white image of a man’s bulging crotch in a pair of tight, fitted jeans, his cock clearly straining against what is an actual, workable zipper; the words ‘The Rolling Stones’ and ‘ _Sticky Fingers_ ’ are stamped in red on the left side.

His eyes immediately fly back up again, once again focusing on Robert’s face — not that it helps the flush slowly creeping up his neck.

He clears his throat, and puts this album back as well, more than satisfied with what he’s collected so far. “Yeah, I’ve pretty much finished.”

Without waiting, he takes the lead, turning left and heading straight towards the counter he knows is at the back of the store, the few records he’s collected now held in his hands. He doesn’t have to look behind him to know that Robert’s already following him. He can hear that now-familiar shuffle of denim and leather.

When they do get to the back, there’s nobody there, the store feeling practically deserted.

“Did you actually meet that replacement they hired for you?” Robert teases from somewhere behind him.

Aaron doesn’t turn to look, but just shakes his head, already leaning over the counter and reaching for the switch he knows is there. The music goes off a half a second later, filling the store with uncharacteristic silence.

He barely has to count to ten before they’re met with a response; loud shuffling from the back room, followed by a deep Mancunian accent crying out, “Oi. What do you think you’re doing?”

Soon enough, an older, bearded man dressed in an old black band t-shirt and faded blue jeans emerges from a curtain off to the side, rolling his wiry frame in on his wheelchair. Upon seeing Aaron, his expression instantly changes, going from actual annoyance to playful sternness.

But Aaron just grins in response, “Hiya Gary.”

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes! Sid and I were beginnin’ to think you’d forgotten about us,” Gary chides, before his brown eyes finally notice Robert. “But I guess that’s because you’ve probably been a bit… busy, eh? Who’s ya friend?”

It’s not the words as much as the way he says it, causing all the blood to rush to Aaron’s cheeks.

“That’s Robert,” he replies as Gary’s eyebrows shoot up, not even pausing as he starts ringing up Aaron’s purchases. Suddenly Aaron’s filled with the need to explain, lest his old friend get the wrong idea. “We work together… That’s why we’re here. Needed to get some stuff for an assignment.”

Gary nods in understanding, but his half-smile continues on, his gaze constantly flitting over to Robert.

Aaron does his best to stand still, trying not to let himself focus on the fact that his former boss has probably guessed the specific reason he’s picked up both Chris Isaak’s _Heart Shaped World_ and The White Stripes’ _Elephant_ — especially since he and his partner were two of the people most responsible for Aaron’s musical education.

When everything’s packed up and paid for, Gary slides over a plastic bag, wishing them both, “Good luck with your assignment.”

But then a few seconds later, he’s giving Aaron a wink, accompanied by that same half-knowing smile. “Hope you boys have fun.”

Aaron nods and turns to leave, his cheeks currently on fire. He brushes past Robert in his haste to leave the shop, something he barely registers, his mind already racing with worry.

 _Why does everyone think he’s my boyfriend?_    


:::::  


He doesn’t notice they’re going in the wrong direction until they’re both more than a few city blocks away from the bus stop, both of them having been distracted by their own non-stop bickering.

“Maybe we should call an Uber,” Robert suggests, for what feels like the hundredth time in the last minute, when they finally turn and begin to retrace their steps. “Don’t want to get caught in the rain.”

Aaron glances upward, noting the rapidly gathering grey clouds overhead — none of which had been present this morning — and shakes his head, more than certain they can outwalk the incoming storm.

“If we hurry, we can make it back to the bus in time,” he states, picking up his pace, the record store bag shuffling at his side. “Besides, a little rain never hurt anyone.”

“Try telling that to my _shoes_ ,” Robert grumbles, waving a hand at his tan leather boots, the slightly-worn material still maintaining a bit of shine.

For a second Aaron thinks he’s joking, but then he adds, “Paid almost £120 for these.”

Aaron can’t restrain his shocked laugh at that, the sound echoing in the near-empty streets and causing the few people on it to look at them and stare.

He turns to see Robert frown at him, “What?”

But Aaron just shakes his head, a cheeky smile on his face. “Guess you better start walking faster then.”

The response he gets is a resigned sigh, Robert clearly unhappy with the decision but choosing not to contest it further.

They’re turning the corner of what Aaron was convinced is a shortcut back, when Robert stops short, going entirely still, all thoughts of impending rain clearly forgotten.

When Aaron turns to look back, he sees that his gaze is fixed on the paned glass storefront of some old bookshop a few feet away, the entire front painted a time-worn white against the aged red brick making up the rest of the building. The sign overhead reads, ‘Between the Lines’ in elegant Bookish script.

“Bookindale…” Robert whispers reverently, a fond smile creeping onto his face as he stares on in affection. As if sensing Aaron’s question, he adds, “That’s what it was called when my mum used to work here.”

Aaron turns to look at it again, his mind taking in this new information and searching for the reason it seems to have sparked a memory. Finally, he hits upon it, remembering a small section in Jack Sugden’s collection of published essays that he’s always tended to skim over, not quite as interested in Jack Sugden’s personal life as he is in his professional one.

“Beckindale Library.”

Robert hums an affirmative, even though it seems less excited than before. “Where Dad met Mum…”

Aaron chances a glance at the sky overhead and sees that the clouds are now a couple of shades darker, but that seems to have passed Robert by completely, his boots now forgotten.

“We can go in if you like,” he suggests, sensing an overwhelming urge to do so emanating from the man next to him.

Robert turns to look at him, as if seeing him for the first time. “You sure about that? What about the bus?”

Aaron cracks a smile at the genuine worry in his voice, before gently pointing out, “Robert, there’ll be other buses.”

He waits a few seconds until he sees the look on Robert’s face relax, even if traces of uncertainty are still present.

“Come on,” he says, already taking a step forward. “Or we’ll miss the _next_ one too.”

He doesn’t stop to see if Robert’s following him, already marching ahead to the shop door.  


:::::  
 

The inside is as cosy and warm as it appears on the outside, the yellow overhead lighting coating the dark green walls and hardwood bookshelves in a soft, welcoming glow; each book earning itself a space in the spotlight.

What is unexpected is the smell of tea in the air, something he figures is coming from the older Indian woman sitting at the counter, a steaming mug placed in front of her and her wide open book.

Aaron purses his lips and gives her nod, before casting his eye elsewhere — or more specifically, in Robert’s direction.

He’s stood at the back of the shop, light and shadow bouncing off him in dramatic effect, highlighting both his jaw and cheekbones while also softening the distraction in his smile; long fingers gently cradling the book he’s reading, his thumb flipping through its pages.

Suddenly, Aaron’s possessed by the desire to snap a picture, some part of him wanting to capture this image forever. But the urge passes as fast as it came.

Clearing his throat, he goes over to join him, a little bored of hanging around the ‘Local Bestsellers’ aisle — complete with a whole shelf dedicated to Moira Barton’s latest literary accomplishment — and fairly certain that he’s given Robert enough time and space.

Coming closer, Aaron can see that the backside of the shop is a whole lot wider, with a much more open space thanks to the distinct lack of display tables taking up room in the middle. It takes him a moment to realise that the left corner is carpeted, and another to realise that this must be the children’s section, a realisation helped along by the _Paddington_ posters on the wall and the copy of _A Little Princess_ in Robert’s hand.

“Aren’t you a bit young for that?” He jokes, as he continues making his way nearer.

His words seemingly bounce off of Robert, still lost in a bubble of reminiscing. Aaron thinks back to his time in the record shop and wonders if he’d had that same look upon his face. Suddenly he thinks he can see what Robert saw; a smile usually hidden from everyone else.

He’s about to turn away and leave Robert to it, when he replies a few seconds later, “This was always Vic’s favourite book. Mum used to read it to us.”

Aaron nods and smiles, inching a little closer. “She sounds like a great mum.”

“She was,” Robert tells him, voice rife with affection. “She always used to say, she never planned on becoming one. But then she met us and fell in love.”

He looks over at the corner, and Aaron follows his gaze to where a couple of cushions now sit, piled for any book-loving child to take and use.

“We used to come here all the time when Dad first started going on the road,” Robert says, the memory of it causing him to practically radiate warmth. “Me and Vic would do our homework while Mum helped customers. She’d try and help us too if we didn’t know something.”

He chuckles a little before continuing, “She’d always say, ‘I’m sure we can find the answer. There’s a book in here for everything.’”

Aaron looks around the space again and can’t help but agree. “Probably is.”

That puts another pleased smile on Robert’s face, his entire being lighting up further as he nods at the opposite corner, before walking over.

“She had her first book reading here when she got published,” he says, gesturing around the space as he walks past Aaron. “She couldn’t get over that. Reading her book at the place where it all started…”

“ _Home Farm_ ,” Aaron remembers, saying it out loud as a form of confirmation.

Robert looks at him, eyes a little wide in surprise as he nods in agreement. “Yeah.”

“What’s it about?” Aaron finds himself asking, genuinely curious about the woman who’d inspired Jack Sugden — and now, many years later, Robert.

“It’s a love story,” Robert elaborates, running his fingers across the book spines on a shelf of the nearest bookcase. “About these two people who meet in this little farming village. They’re the complete opposite, but they fall in love anyway…”

A silence settles between them, Robert slipping back onto memory lane. Aaron can feel him drifting away, and for some reason, he knows he shouldn’t let him. So he reaches out with a joke. “Didn’t take you for the romantic type.”

It seems to work, because suddenly he’s back.

“Why not?” Robert asks, back to his regular smug and snarky self again. “Be a bit hard to advise people on their relationships if I _didn’t_ believe in romance.”

“But what about you?” He asks after a second. “Don’t tell me Aaron Dingle doesn’t believe in love.”

He swallows, thinking back to a time when that answer would have been a _yes_ — and an ecstatic one that — but it’s since passed and he’s learned his lesson.

_Love doesn’t mean anything, does it? Not without trust._

Instead, he just shrugs, “So what if I don’t?”

“You write about music,” Robert points out, like he’s physically incapable of accepting his answer. “And most music’s usually about love. There’s no way you can write the way you do and not feel it.”

He looks at Aaron meaningfully, like he’s been missing the obvious all along.

“Yeah, well I don’t,” Aaron responds gruffly, turning around so he can retreat to the front of the store.

“So I’m guessing you probably don’t have a favourite love song,” Robert asks from close behind him, clearly not dropping the issue. The confidence practically drips off his voice when he suggests, “Maybe we should make _that_ our next assignment. ‘Top 10 Songs to Fall In Love To.’”

Aaron stops and turns around, unable to believe the suggestion. “We haven’t even finished this one, and you’re already thinkin’ about the next?” 

Robert grins but doesn’t stop walking, a twinkle in his eye present the whole time.

Aaron can’t seem to look away, the whole thing happening in slow motion.

Robert slows as he approaches, only instead of stopping as Aaron expects him to do, he moves to go around him, still walking but brushing past him in the process; a leatherbound arm rubbing against his hoodie-clad one, his response hitting Aaron right in the ear.

“What can I say? I’m a romantic.”

He tries to contain his shiver, his muscles tightening in response, even as he turns to follow what is now a cocky swagger.

He’s just about stilled the heat in his veins, when he realises Robert’s talking, having already made it to the door.

“... reckon we better get a move on, yeah? Seeing as we’ve got a bus to catch, and all that.”

Recognising the question in his stare, Aaron awakens from his distraction; a wave of determination hitting like a jolt to the system, his unwillingness to let Robert Sugden get the last word edgeways.

He picks up the pace, making sure to rub past Robert as he exits, letting his chest graze Robert’s in the process.

“Better hurry up,” he growls, voice rough with teasing humour as he steps into the cool air. “Wouldn’t want those shoes to get wet.”  


:::::  
 

When they get to the stop, they’ve just missed their bus, the back of it driving away in the distance.

“Looks like we’ll have to call an Uber after all,” Robert suggests, just this shy of smug, his phone already in his hand.

“We can still catch it if we run,” Aaron points out, cheeky grin widening at the sound of a groan from beside him.

He’s about to make another quip — before suggesting they wait till the next one yet again — when his stomach decides to rumble. The smile on his face fades.

Next to him, Robert seems to startle, brow furrowing as he checks the time. As expected, it’s hours past lunchtime — something Aaron’s hunger is already telling him.

“I know a good Italian place around here, if you’re interested,” Robert tells him. He looks tentative, almost nervous; both hands jammed in his jeans pockets, eyebrows raised more than usual.

Aaron thinks of the sole piece of toast he’d eaten this morning and the vending machine packet of crisps he’d planned on grabbing and decides that maybe a restaurant lunch would be worth it.

He nods, a silent gesture of agreement, before adding, “Guess we can call an Uber after.”  


:::::  
 

He’s not sure what he’d expected when Robert had suggested lunch, but this small, family-run trattoria tucked away in yet another side street is hardly what he’d pictured; red and gold striped awning over a green bay window bearing the words, ‘Trattoria Toscana.’

The early dinner lull means they’re seated at a table by it right away — not that it matters, the darkened clouds outside mean the lights are on in the restaurant anyway; yellow light bouncing off every inch of their wooden tabletop and red leather cushioned chairs.

They order not long after, Robert flagging down the server to let her know they’d like one of the specials (a spinach and cheese ravioli) and one of Aaron’s favourites (Spaghetti Bolognese), before also ordering a bottle of wine.

“You know what they say,” Robert quips after it arrives, pouring them each a glass. “When in an Italian restaurant…”

“Make dumb jokes?” Aaron teases, pleased with himself as he takes a sip of his drink, letting the fruity flavour swirl around in his mouth before swallowing. His stomach growls in anticipation.

As Robert opens his mouth to respond, his phone starts to light up, buzzing at least twice from two separate incoming messages. He tries to silence it, even turning the screen over. But then another just arrives, the device vibrating loudly atop the table.

“New girlfriend?” He jokes, a hint of something prickling at his insides. “ _Or_ boyfriend?”

“Uh, no. Just Vic,” Robert tells him, a pink tinge to his cheeks. “I’m actually not seeing anyone right now.”

“Oh,” Aaron responds, that something turning into a hot flash of shame. Luckily, there’s another vibration to distract from his features. “You should probably get that then. Seems kind of urgent.”

But Robert just shakes his head, clearly used to this. “Trust me, it isn’t. She’s just gushing over last night’s selfie.”

His cheeks turn pinker as he adds in a rush, “She’s just glad I’m getting on at my new job, that’s all.”

Aaron’s about to tease him and tell him that’s sweet, when there’s a loud buzzing from his own pocket. He pulls his phone out to see that it’s a message from Adam.  


**ADAM  
** Guess who’s got a date with Victoria Sugden TONIGHT???  


He grins at his friend’s good news, before typing up a wind-up of a response.  


**AARON  
** I’m flattered, mate. But you do know I’m gay, right? (Seriously though, I’m happy for ya.)  


He puts his phone away after he hits SEND, knowing Adam will ask him if he needs anything else. When he looks up, he finds that he’s being watched. He holds Robert’s gaze as he slides the rest of his phone in.

“Got another date?” Robert asks, an odd look on his face. His right arm is stretched out in front of him across the table, his index finger and thumb playing with the stem of his own wine glass, rubbing it back and forth almost distractingly.

“Somethin’ like that,” Aaron replies, reaching forward to take another sip of wine. “That was Adam. He’s goin’ on a date with Vic tonight.”

Robert’s face clears for a moment, before a different sort of cloud settles on it. “Vic said you two are quite close. Is he an ex or something?”

“He wishes,” Aaron snorts, tickled by the assumption. “No, though. He’s my best mate… and straight. In case _you’re_ interested.”

He grins as Robert nearly chokes on his glass of wine, doing his best to stifle his rising chuckles. He’s not entirely successful as they burst forth at the sound of Robert’s sputtering.

“We grew up in the same village, so he’s kind of like a brother,” he eventually explains when Robert’s coughing subsides. “But his mum’s Moira Barton. He’s a bit like you and Vic like that.”

Robert opens his mouth to respond, but his phone vibrates, drawing both of their attention.

“That’s probably Vic texting about the date,” he notes sheepishly as he looks up and meets Aaron’s eyes.

There’s a beat of silence, an air of friendliness stretching out between them. Aaron decides to leave the teasing aside.

“It’s nice that you’re that close with your sister.”

The phone buzzes again. Robert raises an eyebrow. “You sure about that? Can hardly get away from her sometimes.”

He thinks of Adam and the way that he’s always pushing him to put himself out there and shrugs, “It’s just sweet that they care.”

Robert smiles in gentle understanding, another wave of silence settling upon them.

It only lasts a few seconds before the server arrives, carrying both their orders.

She’s barely gone before Aaron tucks right in, napkin already on his lap and fork loosely twirling his pasta; unable to wait for even a second longer. It’s not until he’s slurping up a stray noodle, the feel of it dragging on his beard, that he looks up and sees Robert staring at him.

“Your food isn’t going to run away, you know,” he points out in amusement.

“Haven’t eaten since breakfast,” Aaron replies, diving back in for another bite — this one with considerably more care. 

He’s busy focusing on devouring his meal, when his ears finally detect it…

An honest to goodness _moan_.

He almost chokes, jolting up immediately, only to find Robert blissfully unaware and chewing on what must be his first bite; eyes shut as he savours it, yellow light highlighting the blonde of his eyelashes and the masticating muscles of his jaw.

Aaron swallows his morsel and shifts in his seat. Suddenly not at all that kind of hungry.

When he’s sure it’s passed, he leans down for another bite, only to be hit with another _groan_ of satisfaction, this one shooting straight down to his groin.

He drops his fork, and it clatters against his plate, splashing some pasta sauce up on him. He uses his napkin to try and dab himself clean, doing his best to ignore the increasing tightness in his jeans.

When he looks back up, Robert’s watching him again, clearly about to go in for more.

“Looks good…” Aaron mumbles, unsure of what to say, trying to think of anything — _anything_ — else in this moment. 

“Want a bite?” Robert asks, eyes still on him, lips falling open ever so slightly.

Aaron wants to say no, but his mouth can’t seem to work, so he’s stuck watching as Robert slowly spears at his plate, before reaching across the centre of the table, his hand holding out a fork with a single ravioli… 

He watches as it nears, leaning forward to receive it, his mouth opening wider and wider. As he feels the soft edge of the pasta graze his lips, he starts to bring them down; his gaze flicking back upwards, meeting Robert’s eyes once again.

Mouth wrapped around the fork and the weight of warm pasta against his tongue, Aaron slowly pulls back; the slight hints of basil in the sauce now beginning to sink in.

He watches as Robert’s eyes flicker down to his mouth and back, as he starts to lean back, lips dragging across the metal tines.

Once clear of the fork and settled back in his seat, he takes his time as he chews and swallows.

“And?” Robert asks, the word barely a whisper. The fork wavers in the air between them.

“It’s good,” Aaron manages, his voice no louder, and if anything just a hint of breathless. They continue holding each other’s gazes

Robert appears like he’s about to say something else, when the phone beside him buzzes. 

Aaron jumps at the sound — something finally louder than the pounding in his ears — and he watches as Robert reluctantly turns to look at it, the air pulling tighter between them.

“Sisters, eh?” Aaron jokes into the vacuum, the words slipping from his lips in a bit of a rush.

Across from him, Robert’s face registers surprised, but then he bursts into one of his usual chuckles — the sound playing like music to Aaron’s ears.

He exhales, the air between them now so much looser, before pouring himself another glass of wine.  


:::::  
 

He’s too full of pasta and wine and the sizzle of incoming rain in the air to veto the suggestion of an Uber back to the office any longer — which is how he ends up on the back seat of a grey Ford Fiesta, Robert’s left knee pressing into the right side of his own.

“See? Not so bad, is it?” Robert asks, practically in his ear, even as his eyes remain trained on his phone. “At least this way we both get to sit.”

He rolls his eyes, not dignifying that with an answer — even though he’s secretly pleased to just be able to sit back and relax for a bit, not having fancied possibly having to stand the entire way back.

Only there’s still the very real problem of the knee in his side, its owner’s long legs spread wide over almost two-thirds of the back seat, almost cutting into his half of the middle seat.

Suddenly Aaron gets what Tracy means when she rants about the evils of “rampant manspreading.”

He’d bring his legs closer and sit a little tighter, but he’s much too full of food for that right now. So he just decides to leave it as is; Robert’s knee gently knocking back against his any time the car comes to a start or a stop.

Seeking to distract himself, he pulls out his phone. But midway through yet another level of _Dots_ , he finds himself on the incoming end of a message.  


**TRACY  
** Having fun with ROBERT???  


Confused as to how she’d even found out about their spending time together, and still nervous about her connecting it to last night, he sends her an anxious reply.  


**AARON  
** We’re just gettin’ stuff for our assignment.  


And then-  


**AARON  
** How’d you even know he’s with me?  


As is her style, Tracy replies right away, her message consisting of only a single link. 

Aaron holds his breath, pulse pounding in his ears, as he taps on it and opens it up. It’s Robert’s Instagram page, and it would appear he’s recently posted an update.

Scrolling down, he sees what it is: an image of him standing in the record store, browsing the records in the display in front of him, the white fluorescent lighting fading his entire outfit, and softening his dark beard and curls into a slightly lighter brown. He looks like his younger self, but also much older; a part of himself now stuck forever in time.

 

The longer he continues to gaze at it, the more he focuses on his expression, an altogether rare and unguarded smile. The happiness in it disarms him for once, unable to believe how almost at peace he looks — a stark difference from other photos of him, where he just sports grimace after frown after grimace, never having been a fan of having his picture taken; never really one for photographically documenting his state of being. 

When he’s finally able to tear his eyes away from himself, he starts to read Robert’s caption.  


**robertsugden** Busy watching the master at work. Look for our first piece this weekend!  


When he looks over at Robert, he sees he hasn’t noticed a thing, probably too busy texting another response to Vic.

He smiles at the look of affection on Robert’s face, truly having meant what he’d said about his relationship with his sister. Only watching him now, with that fond expression, Aaron knows the reverse is true as well.

_It’s sweet how much he cares._

In his hands, his phone vibrates again. He unlocks it and gives it a check.  


**TRACY  
** When do you think you’ll be back? Finn wants to make a proper introduction.  


That same something, from earlier in the restaurant, rises up within him and before he can stop himself, he’s already texting and hitting SEND.  
 

 **AARON  
** We’re both goin’ home after this. Need to get started on some research.  


The knowledge sinks in, a half a second later. 

_Can’t go back to work._

He swallows nervously, stressed by the lie. His mind scrambles for a plan before finally hitting one.

He looks up and turns toward Robert, more than aware of the minutes ticking as the car brings them nearer and nearer to their intended destination.

As if sensing his gaze, Robert looks up, now-green eyes meeting his much more blue ones.

“Would you want to come over to my place?”

The words linger in the air, Robert not reacting, so Aaron rushes in to fill the void.

“I’ve got a record player.”

He jostles the bag for emphasis, but Robert’s already nodding, midway through his sentence, a smile spreading on his face. He looks at the bag in acknowledgement. “Trust me, I’m not surprised.” 

Slowly but surely, Aaron’s nerves start to subside, but then he’s left with only one problem.

“Need your phone,” he says looking expectantly at Robert’s hand where it rests in his lap. “‘ve got to change the address. Put in mine instead.”

For a second, he thinks Robert’s going to refuse, as a look of panic flashes across his face. But then he quickly exits out of an app and taps into Uber.

“Don’t worry. I’m not kidnappin’ ya,” Aaron jokes reaching across to take it from him. Robert continues watching him, his grip lying loose in his lap.

His hand closes around the device, and as he does, his fingers graze Robert’s. He lets out a nervous chuckle, adding, “Be a bit hard considerin’ this is your phone.”

Plucking it from Robert’s grasp, he types his address in, all the while trying to ignore the tingling in his fingers.

Once he’s tapped CONFIRM, he hands the phone back, certain he’s made the right decision.

:::::

He’s not sure why he’s so tense when he unlocks his front door, his heart trying to pound its way out of his chest the entire three flights of steps up to his flat, the sound of Robert’s steps on the stairs behind him echoing in his ears the entire way.

Aaron tries to think back to earlier that morning, to the state he’d left the place in when he’d run out the door. But his mind keeps drawing a blank, his nerves growing thicker by the moment.

When the door finally swings open, he breathes a sigh of relief, the space currently at its least cluttered; grateful for the effort he’d put into cleaning it this past weekend.

Robert follows him in — not before wiping his shoes on the doormat out front — taking a few steps before he pauses, eyes carefully sweeping the space; the sofa and framed concert posters and records on his right, followed by the red IKEA bookshelf full of books and records on the left. A top of the line red record player sits on top, right in the middle.

“Well, this is a surprise,” Robert says, his gaze coming back to rest on him, clearly impressed with what he’s seen.

“Why? What did you expect?” Aaron questions, a spread of warmth in his belly as he shuts the door and kicks off his shoes.

“Well,” Robert jokes, flashing him a grin. “Seeing as how I sit across from you, a complete and total mess.”

Aaron shrugs as he comes to stand beside him, surveying the space around them. “That’s just work.”

He can hear the smirk in Robert’s voice before he actually sees it, voice dripping with it as he asks, “... and this is play?”

Aaron looks him in the eye, pursing his lips as he nods. “Something like that.”

They stand like that a little longer; Robert gazing around the space, Aaron hoping he doesn’t notice the dust on the window sill or the coffee stain on the corner of the carpet. But his eyes seem reserved solely for his record collection, clearly itching to go through it.

“Fancy a beer?” Aaron asks, finally remembering to be more hospitable. “I’ve got some in the fridge.”

“Drinking on the job?” Robert teases, distraction slowly fading as he fixes Aaron with a stare. “Sure that isn’t against the ‘Aaron Dingle Code of Conduct’?”

Aaron rolls his eyes as he heads toward the kitchen. “We _just_ had wine with lunch.”

This time, the smirk is even more audible, practically coating Robert’s voice as he remains standing in the living room. “Yeah, but that was part of the culinary experience. Can’t have pasta without wine.”

“Pretty sure you can,” Aaron argues back, reaching into the fridge and grabbing two of his many cans of beer. He ignores the general barrenness of his shelves, a prolonged side effect of constant takeaways. “At least, that’s what I’m always doin’.”

“Guess you’re lucky you’ve got me then,” Robert jokes, voice carrying through the kitchen doorway.

Aaron pauses as he emerges, standing still in the doorway, a can of beer in each hand as his eyes quickly find Robert, his hands having already made their way into his collection; fingers dragging along the edges of each record, before occasionally pausing and sliding the odd one out, examining it, and putting it back.

He watches him for a few seconds longer, amused and a little touched at the care he’s taking with each item.

“Do you always have to touch everything?” Aaron asks, the words slipping straight from his mind and out his mouth.

Robert instantly freezes at his words, fingers withdrawing, and cheeks turning pink as he turns. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”

That’s when his eyes seem to catch on something right in front of him, eyebrows shooting up as he lets out a low whistle.

Aaron grins, knowing he’s found the first of his two freestanding speakers, the pair of them among his most prized possessions.

“This must have set you back quite a bit,” Robert says, voice thick with appreciation.

Aaron nods as he walks over to join him, grinning with ownerly pride.

“Worth it though,” he says, holding one of the cans out at Robert. “Bought it with my first paycheck at the paper. First time I had any extra money.”

When he turns, he sees that Robert’s gazing at him all impressed, before reaching out to take the beer from him, his fingers warm against the coldness of the can, momentarily trapping Aaron’s hand in a sandwich of fire and ice.

“To excellent purchases,” Robert toasts, popping his can open with a _hiss_ and bringing it up to his mouth in one smooth move, tipping his head back to take a sip.

Aaron watches, mouth slightly agape, as the liquid moves down the line of Robert’s neck, his freckled Adam’s Apple bobbing in time with each swallow.

When he’s finished, he comes up with a satisfied sigh, his tongue darting out to lick at his top lip, before his mouth quirks up in a smile. “Didn’t realise how thirsty I was.”

Aaron nods silently, trying not to focus solely on Robert’s wet lips, his mind already cueing up memories of last night.

Before he can say anything further, Robert’s brushing right past him and taking a seat on the closest end of the sofa; knees instantly spread out, crotch slid outward, and leather jacket slowly coming off. He’s clearly making himself at home.

Aaron would roll his eyes if he weren’t just a little bit distracted, his attention having fallen away from Robert’s lips, and ventured much, _much_ lower.

They snap back up to attention — or rather Robert’s face — when he realises he’s spoken. 

“So? What are we waiting for?” Robert’s grinning at him wide and playful. “Don’t you have some sexy music to play?”

Aaron’s reminded of something, a sly smirk slipping onto his face, “Just give me minute. Need to find my Vengaboys CD.”

Robert’s embarrassed groan fills the room, followed closely by Aaron’s amused snickers.   
 

:::::  


He’s on his third beer by the time they get to one of his favourite songs, a low buzz building in his veins and slowly rising to the top; a side effect of the good music and casual conversation, Robert and he trading stories as they make their way through each track.

“So wait,” Robert begins as the current song — Alice Smith’s ‘Do I’ — comes to a close, it’s slow pulsating rhythm fading out to a comfortable silence. “You’re really telling me, that you, Aaron Dingle, haven’t used a single one of these songs to get a bloke into bed?”

Aaron thinks back, sips his drink, and then shakes his head. “Never really had to.”

He doesn’t mean to sound as confident and cocksure of himself as he does, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to stand by his sentiment.

Across from him on the sofa Robert’s eyes narrow, as if studying him, a tiny flicker appearing in them before it vanishes. He nods, swayed by his answer. “Fair enough. You are pretty fit.”

Aaron feels a warmth spread through his cheeks at the words, he glances away as it starts to sweep through the rest of his system, his eyes falling on the laptop on the coffee table between them.

But there’s some shuffling to his right, and a large hand placed on his knee and he looks back to find Robert sitting much, much closer than he was before.

“I mean that, Aaron. You really are,” Robert says, as he seems to search his eyes. He must find what he’s looking for because a second later he asks, a curious smile on his face. “You’re not very good at taking compliments about your appearance, are you? Why is that?”

He answers without thinking, the words falling loose from his lips, “Can always change how I look. Can’t change who I am, can I?”

Robert grins at that, nodding in appreciation. “You’re really quite something, you know that?”

Aaron grins at that, happy to move away from the subject. “So I’ve been told.”

That makes Robert laugh, the sound ringing in his ears, a low huskiness to it that he hasn’t heard before. But before he can dwell on that, he feels a light pat on his knee, Robert’s large hand having slapped it in his amusement.

As the warmth of contact starts to spread through it, Aaron’s suddenly more than aware of the length of each of Robert’s fingers, the weight of them light and casual as they remain resting.

However a few seconds later, it doesn’t seem to fade, the pressure causing waves of heated awareness to rise through him and up to his cheek.

He clears his throat, unsure what else to do, so he turns his attention back to the blanketing silence. “Time for another song, eh?”

Reaching forward, he opens his laptop, establishing a bluetooth connection with his speakers before he goes into his music player and hits PLAY, relieved when Robert’s hand moves away from his knee.

Only to be hit, seconds later, by the scent of Robert’s still-lingering shampoo, his having shuffled even closer, knee knocking against Aaron’s in the process.

Around them, the song starts to pulse, each note of the piano reverberating through them, soon joined by the slow beating of the drums, and the whispered rasp of the female singer’s voice.

Aaron swallows nervously, instantly a bit regretful at this choice of song, having felt it’s seductive pull while on his own several times before, only to forget its potency and accidentally put it on this particular playlist. 

There’s already a familiar strain building in the front of his jeans, the faint beat a shot of adrenaline through his body; the pressure coiling and needing him to stretch out. He bites his lip, his toes curling beneath him, trying not to focus on Robert seeing his reaction.

_Tell me…_

Trying to steel himself, he slides back in his seat so he can lean back against the cushion, his leg brushing against Robert’s as he does so, the friction sinking deep into his jeans.

_I need to know…_

Beside him, Robert’s adjusting his seat, now just a little closer to Aaron, their thighs flush up against each other’s as he leans closer to read Aaron’s laptop screen.

_Where do you want to go…_

“It’s The xx,” Aaron explains, not sure what else to say, his words coming out a little breathless.

“It’s good,” Robert notes, his leg moving against Aaron’s as it starts to tap along to the beat. He looks back and smiles at Aaron as he adds, a slight rasp to his voice. “Quite sexy.”

_Cause if you’re down…_

Aaron just nods, doing his best to focus on what his lips are saying, his mind too preoccupied with the building friction in his leg, Robert’s foot continuing to maintain it’s slow and steady rhythm.

_I’ll take it slow…_

He licks his dry lips, finally managing an answer, “They, uh, performed it live for me when I first interviewed them a few years ago.”

Robert’s eyes light up at that, a hint of wonder in their now darker shade of green, “Must have been nice.” 

“It was,” Aaron replies, still trying to focus through the slowly building flame in his leg. “Probably still have pictures.”

_Make you lose control…_

He leans forward to access his laptop, his arm brushing against Robert’s and rendering him almost unable to think as his hands hover over the keyboard.

_Baby, would you like…_

He brings his hand down to his trackpad, slowly clicking his way through the folders of his laptop, fully aware of Robert’s leg the entire time. Eventually, he spots the right one. Biting his lip as he clicks on it.

_To spend the night…_

He glances back at Robert — leg growing warmer — only to find that his gaze is trained on Aaron’s face, eyes dark as they drop down to his lips. Aaron licks them as a reflex, tongue wet against the dryness.

_The whole night…_

“Found it,” he practically whispers, his own gaze focusing on Robert’s much more moist ones, their pinkness more evident in the dim light of the lamp lighting up the room. He looks back up into Robert’s eyes.

_And maybe if you play it right…_

Robert nods slowly, his eyes not leaving his face, his face drawing nearer and nearer. Aaron sits, there still feeling Robert’s leg tap out that same rhythm, watching as Robert leans closer and closer…

… until he stops, mere centimetres away, his eyes back on Aaron’s lips. his moist breath warming them, his leg forever moving.

_You can be all mine…_

Unable to stand it any longer, and eager to avoid a repeat of last night, Aaron surges forward and closes the gap between them, claiming Robert’s lips for his own as he all but sucks the air out of his system in a bruise of a kiss, the intensity of it causing him to clutch at Robert’s arm, a toned bicep wrapped in too-thin cotton.

He hardly waits for a second longer to take Robert’s bottom lip in between his, licking at it for access, his nose pressed into his cheek. Robert instantly parts his lips, his tongue surging forward and curling and pressing against Aaron’s, the dull taste of imported beer still lingering on it as Robert mumbles a moan, bracing against Aaron’s leg, a hot brand of fire on his upper thigh.

They break apart a few moments later, both a little breathless and Aaron already more than a little uncomfortable in his jeans.

“At least we know the song works,” Robert grins in a rush, kiss-reddened lips coming in quick to pick up where they left off. But he misses, landing a wet kiss on the side of Aaron’s mouth instead, losing his momentum slightly as Aaron tugs both of them to their feet, his leg landing between Aaron’s thighs.

“Not yet,” Aaron half growls, Robert’s warm breath back on his own lips as he grabs at his sides to steady him, fingers digging into firm muscle as he starts to guide him towards his bedroom door.

They resume kissing, Aaron’s tongue sliding against Robert’s and making him groan into his mouth, his hands tightening their grip on his body. Robert’s fingers bunch up in the slight opening of his hoodie, pulling their chests closer, now flush with every step. Their legs continue to brush against each other as they stumble backwards, Robert’s thick bulge repeatedly rubbing against Aaron’s thigh, the thought of it making him strain harder against his jeans, his own knees nearly buckling at the thought of it. Robert’s crotch selfie playing on a loop in his mind. 

Their kisses start to grow more sloppy and distracted as they enter Aaron’s bedroom, any concern he might have had for the state of it now discarded at the door as he yanks Robert’s shirt out of the belted waistband of his jeans, fumbling as he works to unbutton it, eager for bare skin on skin contact.

Robert’s fingers join his, making quick work of it, Aaron pushing the shirt off his shoulders as his thoughts fill with images of a careless office stretch, his thumbs now stroking hard against the sides of Robert’s waist, where he imagines that familiar band of freckles to be; each hard rub timed to the rising ache in his cock.

They break away for a moment. Robert pushing Aaron’s hoodie off the arm stuck in a sleeve, followed closely by his t-shirt, the cool air hitting his bare chest and sending a different kind of shiver down his spine. They reconnect almost immediate, Aaron moving from Robert’s mouth to his neck, sucking and nipping at the point where it meets his shoulder, Robert’s hot gasp shooting straight into his ear, causing Aaron’s hands to falter as they work on his belt buckle.

A few seconds later, he claims success, the audible _clink_ a relief as he moves on to unbuttoning and shoving Robert’s jeans down, his knuckles rubbing against the light hairs leading down into Robert’s boxer briefs. He doesn’t wait a moment longer to meet Robert’s lips once again, his hand snaking its way down into his underwear and palming at his already leaking dick; the weight of it solid in his hand.

Robert groans into his mouth when he gives it a squeeze. Aaron’s own shaft grows achingly harder.

He starts steadily stroking and they stumble a few more steps backwards until the back of Robert’s legs hit the base of his bed. Robert tugs him closer by the waistband of his undone jeans, shoving them and his underwear down where they catch around his knees, cool air hitting the back of his thighs, not that he notices as Robert’s large hands slide around him, gripping and kneading his bare bum cheeks, short nails pressing into thick flesh.

Aaron lets out a groan, grinding his naked cock against Robert’s bare leg, the friction of skin easing some of his building tension.

It fades away when he feels a grin against his mouth, Robert clearly pleased with what he’s doing. With a surge of annoyance, Aaron leans forward and drags his teeth against Robert’s bottom lip, pulling backwards as Robert thrusts into his now-still hand. 

It’s his turn to grin when he hears Robert hiss as he pulls his hand back, pushing him back onto the bed with the other.

Robert bounces lightly against the mattress, his eyes gazing up at Aaron in dazed want; lips red and swollen, hair a blonde mess. His almost naked body is pale against the dark sheets, the gunmetal grey only highlighting the contrast of his full body of freckles.

Aaron’s bites his lip, breath hitching at the sight. He wants to ruin him further.

Shucking off the rest of his underwear and jeans, skin-warmed denim and boxers pooling at his ankles before he kicks them off, he steps forward and falls to his knees, spreading Robert’s legs on either side of him.

Reaching up, he pulls the waistband of Robert’s underwear down, his erect dick springing free. Aaron leans forward to nuzzle at it, breathing in his scent. He swipes a lick against his balls as he does so. 

Robert gasps, his hips lifting up, Aaron yanks the rest of his underwear off in the process.

Then without missing a beat, he pins both of Robert’s thighs down, and lowers his lips, wrapping them around his clearly straining erection.

Aaron hollows his cheek, taking as much of him as he can, letting his teeth graze against him as he moves back up. Robert groans and attempts to push up once again. But Aaron just keeps holding his trembling thighs steady.

He lets out a moan when Robert’s fingers move through his hair, nails scraping at his scalp as he lightly tugs, a reaction to Aaron’s sucking and bobbing.

A few seconds go by and he speeds up his pace, bringing one hand up to massage Robert’s balls, his prolonged groan fuel for his ears; Aaron’s cock now twitching and more than aching, desperate for some friction.

Pressing his tongue flat against the base of Robert’s shaft, he pulls up off him in one smooth motion, his lips making a wet and audible _pop_. He grins as Robert bucks and curses, his wet dick swaying gently in the air.

Aaron licks his lips, lunges forward for a kiss, his dick rubbing against Robert’s shaft and belly and making him moan into his mouth. Robert’s hot tongue greets him in welcome, one hand coming down to stroke them both.

Aaron breaks away again, one arm bracing down by Robert’s face, the other reaching for his bedside drawer as he attempts to fish out a condom and lube.

But Robert appears to have plans of his own, his fingers digging into Aaron’s neck and thigh as he begins biting and sucking at his collarbone. The alternating pressure making him almost lose focus; his hips grinding down against Robert’s body and hand, both their cocks now wet and leaking.

With a gasp and a pant, Aaron finally pulls back, his hand having already found what he’s been seeking. He moves back on his knees, still between Robert’s legs, ripping open the foil and sliding on the condom, rubbing his swollen head for extra measure.

He lets out his own shuddering gasp.

He can feel Robert watching him, now leaning back on his elbows, eyeing him as he starts to smear lube all over his fingers.

“Safety first?” Robert jokes, voice still rough from being kissed, a cocky smile on display. Aaron recognises it at once, having kept him awake and reading in annoyance.

He grunts as he hooks a hand around Robert’s hip, lifting and sliding it up his thigh. “Doesn’t hurt to be careful.”

Before he can say anything, Aaron slides his fingers in, and Robert pushes down with a groan, his head tipping back in pleasure.

“Don’t worry,” he eventually pants, clutching at Aaron’s sides, his body writhing at every finger-stretching sensation. “I can take it.”

Aaron gazes down at the relaxed smile on his lips, the way his hips keep rolling down on his still moving fingers, and growls, “Who says I’m worried?”

The smile soon turns into a grin, the edges of it tinged with casual knowing. That annoying glint of recognition rearing it’s annoying head. Feeling it prickle, Aaron scissors his fingers, and then Robert’s too busy gasping, “ _Fuck me._ ”

With an enthusiastic grunt, he decides to oblige, pushing Robert’s other leg back up for easier access.

He enters quickly to the sound of Robert’s thick groan, feels the hot tightness wrapping around him.

And just like that, he’s building a steadily increasing rhythm; the front of his thighs snapping against the back of Robert’s bum, the culmination of minutes, if not days, of subconsciously waiting.

Robert’s legs wrap around him, dragging him deliciously deeper, his hands clinging onto Aaron’s shoulders, as his every movement grows harder and faster.

With each slam of a thrust, he thinks of the concert, of that previous night in the bar; of hot fingers wrapping around his and light but prodding questions paired with an intense stare that never really relents.

Looking down, he sees Robert’s eyes have rolled back in his head, head tipped back, and mouth breathlessly swearing.

“Aaron… Aaron… _Aaron._ ”

With every thrust and utterance of his name, he barrels closer to the edge, now seconds away from coming.

Under him, Robert jerks a few times and then spills, come hitting him square in the chest, before dripping back down to Robert’s own.

It’s in that moment he takes in the sight of him — Robert’s flushed face, the freckles on his chest, his hair now matted with sweat — and the shock of it hitting in crystal clear clarity.

_I’m fucking Robert Sugden._

It’s with that final thought that he finally comes, his orgasm crashing through him like a storm.

He pulls out, moves over, and falls forward panting, feeling the drowsiness drift up from his bones; his shaft already fading back to flaccid.

Beside him, Robert’s already talking — something about clean up — not that Aaron’s following what he’s saying, his eyes already drooping, the product of nights of bare and restless sleep.

His last thought, as he looks out his window and starts to drift off, is…

 _Looks like it’s finally raining._  


:::::  


He wakes up to the sight of sunlight streaming in through his bedroom window and to a chill on his bare chest; not a stitch of clothing on his entire body, though his limbs remain loose and gently aching.

He rolls over to the left to check his phone, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes in the process. He’s surprised to already find an unread message, but that soon melts into nervousness as he sees who it’s from.

He taps on it and opens it up, his heart sinking at the words as he reads them; realising the images now filling his head aren’t from a dream.

 **ROBERT  
** Had to nip home for a change of clothes. Didn’t fancy doing a walk of shame in just my first week at work. See you soon though! :)

He groans as he falls back onto his pillow, his eyes shut tight in hopeful denial — despite knowing full well that it’s the truth.

He sighs, and brings his phone to rest back on his chest…

So much for not kissing Robert Sugden.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron changes his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended Listening: 'Make Me Feel' by Janelle Monae

**CHAPTER FIVE**

He’s not sure what he’s going to say to Robert when he gets to the office — or what there even is _to_ say — so he decides to stop for a coffee first, in the hopes that the caffeine will both help clear his head, and maybe give him a better idea.

Because all he can think of right now is the events of last night, and how he’s broken his biggest self-imposed rule: never date, or worse, sleep with a co-worker.

Only now he’s gone ahead and done just that.

_All because of Robert fucking Sugden._

But that’s been the case with him from the start, hasn’t it? His mere presence throwing Aaron off his game and causing him to lose all focus on what really matters. Like this job, and if he’s not more careful, maybe his dream assignment.

_Even though he was the one who helped you get it in the first place._

He tries to ignore that fact, for convenience’s sake, or if anything, to help shore up his mental resolve. Because that’s all Robert Sugden can be to him if he wants to move forward: a tall, surprisingly muscular distraction. One he’ll be stuck dealing with real soon.

 _And yet…_ Aaron thinks, biting his lip. _It wasn’t so bad getting… distracted._

Surprised at his own thoughts, he tries to direct his focus elsewhere — like on his pending approval from Jai and Chrissie. But the more he tries to do so, the more his thoughts start to stray, a bigger piece of his resolve chipping away each time, until he’s right back to thinking about Robert.

The more he thinks about it, yesterday hadn’t been _all_ that bad. At least, not until right at the end.

Because despite all his initial misgivings about Robert, he’s turned out to be a pretty cool guy. One Aaron would even venture as far to describe as nice and somewhat caring — even if his oversharing social media tendencies leave much to be desired.

He thinks of the record shop photo and yet another part of him softens, still touched by what Robert managed to capture.

_Doesn’t hurt that he’s great in bed, either._

He feels a flush steel up his neck at another memory of last night; the sound of Robert’s groans still lingering in his mind, as well as the feel of him wrapped around his-

The thought of it almost makes him spill some sugar on himself.

But as he clears the almost-mess away and dusts himself off, he finds himself drifting once more, this time fixating on something completely different: the image of Robert’s soft smile from moments before they’d kissed, the one that’s half-cocked, and dare he say, a tiny bit charming.

There’s a blooming warmth in his chest as he thinks back to their outing the previous day, the whole thing underscored by a sense of unexpected ease; a byproduct of their playful joking and teasing.

_Plus, you finally got to kiss him._

He tries not to think about that, but he knows it’s pretty much true, having spent most of his day avoiding thoughts of Robert’s lips — something he can’t quite seem to do so now. The desire to revisit them weighing on his mind since his waking.

A small part of him figures it’s because it’s been a while since he’s really dated anyone. But then a much larger one starts wondering what it would be like to specifically date Robert… 

_At least you know the sex would be great._

That dumb fact, even his rational mind can’t seem to argue, so he lets out a huffed sigh of frustration, stirring his black coffee with just a little too much vigour; splashing some of the hot liquid onto his hand.

“Aah,” he hisses, moving and shaking his hand away, before rubbing the back of it on his person.

“You look like hell,” Tracy’s voice greets from behind him, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin. She comes around and stands next to him, opening the lid of her milky iced coffee, about to pour some sugar in. “Rough night?”

His mind flashes back to Robert and he spits out a response, his voice thick and overly defensive. “What’s it got to do with you?”

Her brows furrow as she looks at him puzzlement. Aaron immediately regrets his decision.

“Uh, it’s called being polite?” Tracy points out, clearly a little miffed, despite being used to his general rudeness. “You know, something friends are _supposed_ to do.”

He thinks of the last co-worker he’d made an effort to be polite to and feels a blush sweep through his cheeks, chased quickly by a sullen frown.

It’s aimed more at himself than anyone else, because he knows Tracy hadn’t deserved his snapping; a direct result of his own worst instincts. Because, apparently, even the thought of Robert is enough to bring out the worst in him.

_Yeah, because you like him._

Clearing his throat, he hands her a straw, before awkwardly asking, “How was your morning?”

Sensing an olive branch Tracy instantly lightens up, eager to get back to what she’d forgotten.

“Well, you’d know if you ever read my tweets,” she teases, giving him a playful nudge. But Aaron just rolls his eyes and continues sipping his coffee.

She drops it almost as soon as she brought it up, smiling at him knowingly. She then leans in, and says in a whisper, “I know who Robert’s been sleeping with.”

Her words hit him like a cannonball to the chest, and he nearly spits out his drink, managing to swallow at the last second.

“Who?” He croaks, amidst his coughing and sputtering, warm panic rising up in his chest.

As if to torture him further, Tracy just beams with glee, a twinkle shining through her gaze. She coyly sips at her drink before she answers, “Oh don’t tell me _you_ don’t know.”

Aaron just stands there, blinking and sweating, trying to catch his breath as he shakes his head, his stunned mind fumbling awkwardly for an excuse — or at least some kind of plausible answer.

Tracy continues watching him, as if it’s completely obvious, before saying, “‘Chef Mike’?”

The only thing he registers is that the name isn’t his, everything else she‘s saying drowned out by the swell of relief in his chest; the rising tide of panic starting to cool down, the staccato of his pulse in ears, slowing to a more normal rhythm.

Tracy seems to take his silence for not knowing who this other man is, as she takes out her phone and shows him visual proof, adding, “The guy he’s been flirting with on Twitter all morning?”  
  


**@ChefMike:**  You know your cooking skills are for shite when even your dog doesn't want leftovers. #GaryFail

 **@RobertSugden:** @ChefMike Gary's loss is our gain. What time's dinner then?  

 **@ChefMike:** @RobertSugden As if you're not on your way here already. ;)  
  


Aaron bites his lip, thinking of Robert’s flirty text from when he’d just woke up, but as he skims those tweets, a small piece of him is already sinking.

Still, he offers a rebuttal, his voice slightly strangled, “You sure about that? Looks to me like they’re just chatting.”

 _Besides, he was with me last night_.

But Tracy shakes her head and goes back to studying her phone, “No. I’m telling ya. I know flirting when I see it. Plus, he is exactly Robert’s type.”

When he furrows his brows at her, she just shrugs, “You know, fit.”

There’s another flash of memory, a warm hand on his knee, a soft voice asking, _You’re not good at accepting physical compliments. Why is that?_

He swallows it away roughly, a knot in his throat. “Yeah, well, his relationship’s none of our business.”

He’s surprised to hear Tracy laugh out loud, more amused at his words than expected.

“That’s sweet,” she explains taking another sip of her coffee, the ice shuffling against the plastic. “But Robert Sugden does not do relationships.”

She thinks a little before adding, “Not the proper kind anyway.”

“Thought you said he was changing,” Aaron counters, something about that upsetting him. He tells himself it’s just concern about Finn. “All that new column stuff.”

“Yeah, we’ll see if _that_ lasts,” Tracy explains, now just scrolling through her Twitter. He sees her like a tweet from Bernice. “He’s never really been with anyone longer than a few weeks. Guess he just gets bored and dumps them.”

And just like a few seconds earlier, the comment about Robert just cuts. A kind of psychic sting Aaron wasn’t expecting. He doesn’t know why. It shouldn’t bother him so much. It’s not like he _really_ wanted to date him.

_He’s a nice guy. And we slept together once. But that’s all it’s going to be._

He doesn’t notice Tracy talking until she gives him another nudge.

“You coming, or what?” She asks, nodding in the direction of the elevators.

Aaron shakes his head, more to clear his head than give an answer.

But when she looks at him questioningly he just lies and says, “I’m supposed to be meeting Adam.”

She accepts that with nothing more than a nod and a shrug, well aware of their best friendship.

She sips her drink and turns to go, leaving Aaron alone with his spiralling thoughts.

He pulls out his phone and reads Robert’s last text, unable to square Tracy’s words just now with the man from the day before. The man who’d told him he wasn’t really seeing anyone.

_But he didn’t say anything about sex._

Aaron thinks of Adam, and Sophie and Vic, and wonders if he and this other man are now part of a similar equation; one where Robert sleeps with both of them, happy to keep on juggling.

But then he thinks of Robert’s smile, and the softness on his face, how he’d told him about his mother and that bookshop. It’s funny, but despite knowing him for a just a few days, Aaron feels like he can trust that _that_ man wouldn’t lie to him.

Or at least he hopes, his mind thinking back to Robert and the laughing redhead, and now to this man and Robert’s smile.

That’s when he gets another quick _bing_ , an alert for a new tweet from Robert.

He taps on it instantly and is taken to the app, where he reads his latest posting.  
  


**@RobertSugden:** @ChefMike The fastest way to a man's heart is his stomach. You know that ;)   
  


That sting in his soul turns into a wide gaping wound, Aaron hit by a stab of betrayal. 

Because despite his reservations, and all his hesitations, it would seem that maybe a larger part of him had definitely considered dating Robert Sugden.

Only now, as he reads the words in front of him again, he’s sure he never will. That option now completely off the table.

He turns to leave and throws out the rest of his coffee, the bitter taste still lingering in his mouth, the sugar doing nothing to make it sweeter. He doesn’t need it, he thinks, more awake and alert than ever.

He knows just what he’s going to tell him.  
  


:::::  
 

He’s planning his words in his head on his way to his desk, when a hand shoots out of nowhere and grabs him by the arm, pulling him into a deserted conference room on his left, the door swinging shut behind him.

He barely adjusts to the change in his surroundings — the cold air and dim lighting — when he’s pushed up against the nearest wall, Robert’s hand leaving his arm to hold him at the waist, as he comes in for a kiss; soft smiling lips pressing against his.

Unprepared and completely discombobulated, Aaron finds himself leaning into the softness and returning it, his mouth even chasing after when Robert pulls away — before he remembers where he is and who he’s with and what he’s decided.

He pulls back and stands against the wall, leaning his head back against it, Robert’s hands now both on his waist, the heat of his fingers burning all the way through his hoodie and t-shirt and onto his skin.

“Morning,” Robert greets softly, that smile still on his face, his eyes a lighter shade of blue than Aaron’s ever been close enough to see. “Think we might need to listen to that last song again… Don’t think I really got to hear it.”

He leans in for another kiss, but Aaron doesn’t respond. Just stands still with his nostrils filling with the now-familiar scent of Robert’s shampoo, the tea tree doing nothing to help calm his rapidly beating pulse.

Robert pauses what he’s doing, frowns, and takes a step backwards, a chill seeping in between them. His brows furrow as his eyes search Aaron’s face for some kind of answer. “What’s wrong? Is something the matter?”

Something within him bristles at the audacity of Robert even asking — as if he doesn’t already know — seeing as he’s being brazen enough to flirt with other people in public. Or as public as social media is these days, anyway.

Adam’s voice rings in his head, _What? It’s not like we’re exclusive_.

Swallowing roughly, Aaron looks past Robert’s shoulder and balls up his fists, awash with steadily building annoyance.

“Aaron, talk to me,” Robert tries again, voice a little louder.

 _Why should I?_ Aaron thinks, his mind on that text. _You’re just going to go off with someone else anyway._

“Last night was a mistake,” he finally states, working to keep his voice firm and devoid of any real feeling.

His gaze flicks back to Robert’s face and sees it crumple in confusion.

“What do you mean a mistake?” Robert asks, his bottom lip quivering. His hands drop back to his side.

Aaron looks away, back to not answering. The silence thunders between them.

Robert tries again, this time a little more pleading. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Aaron tells him, locking eyes with him once again; blue steel clashing against a darker, stormier blue. “ _I_ did. I shouldn’t have slept with ya.”

He waits a beat before he adds, somewhat lamely, “We work together, Robert.”

Robert’s brow furrows, clearly processing his words. He licks his lip as he formulates a response.

“Yeah, well we were working together last night. And you were happy to kiss me then,” he points out, volume once again rising. “What happened between then and this morning?”

“I came to my senses,” Aaron responds, his voice harsher than intended. He softens his tone as he goes on to add, “Last night was a total mistake. I shouldn’t have let that happen.”

“What about at the concert?” Robert counters, gaze not wavering, his eyes a bit glossy. “When you held my finger. Was that a mistake too?”

“No,” Aaron swallows, his resolve slightly wavering. “I was just helpin’ out a colleague.”

“Colleague,” Robert snorts in disbelief, before smiling ruefully at him. “Aaron, why don’t you admit it? You actually like me.”

Annoyance bubbles up, spilling over into anger, and he blurts out without thinking, voice two degrees away from a snarl. “I wouldn’t like ya even if you were the last man alive.”

He’s aware of how dramatic and ridiculous it sounds the second it leaves his lips. But then he sees the way Robert reacts — head shaking, eyes looking away, and a smile of disbelief — and he can’t help but double down on the sentiment, letting it flow out of him and straight toward Robert.

The silence stretches on between them, louder and colder than it’s ever been.

“Why?” Robert finally asks, now quiet with defeat. His eyes are wetter than Aaron remembers from a few seconds ago.

“What’d you mean, ‘why’?” Aaron asks, his voice still caustic, not willing to cede even an inch.

“Why’s it so hard for you to admit you have feelings?” Robert presses, the _for me_ hanging in the air between them, an issue even he seems unwilling to open right now.

But then his eyes narrow and he cocks his head to the side, his voice coming out surprisingly gentle, though still in pain. “What happened to you, Aaron? Who hurt you?”

It’s that, more than anything that sends him back reeling; a blister of emotional pain brought on by Robert’s insistent prodding.

_And after I slept with you too._

His defences rise up, unwilling to think about the past and refusing to acknowledge the present.

“You’re one to talk,” he practically spits out. “The great ‘Robert Sugden.’”

There’s a flicker of hurt in Robert’s eyes, mingled in with confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His voice roughens up as he steps forward into Robert’s space, every part of him rising up in challenge. “It means you’re always the one hurtin’ people, aren’t ya? Have you even dated someone, you know, properly? Not just sleepin’ with them until you get bored.”

Robert just stares at him, blinking silently. He looks more and more defeated by the second. “Is that really what you think of me?”

“What else am I supposed to think?” Aaron asks, gazing back into his eyes, seeing the light in them start cool. “You flirt with anyone who so much as tweets at ya. Doesn’t matter who you slept with last night.”

“So that’s it then,” Robert says, now nodding in understanding, some kind of realisation newly dawning. “You’re jealous.”

“No,” Aaron protests, but it’s a little too quick. He sees Robert already smirking, even though it doesn’t reach his eyes.

He licks his lips, as he tries to save face, “Just wiser, that’s all.”

They stand there, toe to toe, both their breaths a little heavy. Unable to stop himself, his eyes flicker down to Robert’s lips, and then back up to his eyes, just holding his gaze for what feels like an eternity.

Robert seems to move, his head leaning forward, but then the door opens with a loud _bang._

They jump apart immediately, Aaron’s back now against the wall, his pulse racing a mile a minute.

Nicola enters a moment later, heels clacking against the tile, phone clasped in her hand as she continues furiously typing. She comes to a stop, finally looking up, looking at both of them before her eyes stop on Robert.

“Oh. Good. There you are,” the publicist states, voice as stern and sharp as Aaron remembers. “Come on, we’re getting late. Trust me, you don’t want to see Debbie when she’s angry.”

Robert doesn’t move, doesn’t take his eyes off Aaron, that dumb knowing smile still on his face, now about as warm as the sun in the peak of winter.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Nicola asks, louder than before. She steps forward and takes him by the arm, Robert not wearing his leather jacket for once, Aaron unconsciously notes. “We need to get to the studio _now_. Or Jai is going to have my head.”

And then a second later, after looking from Robert over to Aaron and then back again. “What are you two doing in here anyway?”

“Just discussing an assignment,” Robert coolly replies as he keeps on staring, the lie falling easily from his lips, almost like he’s daring Aaron to say something.

His insides churn and he's unwilling to accept it, but he can’t stand the look in Robert’s eye. So still maintaining his gaze, he turns his head a little to the right, as he tells Nicola, “But we’re done now.”

For a second it appears as if Robert’s going to argue, his mouth even opening just a bit, but then he stays quiet instead, looking at Nicola as he simply says, “Lead the way.”

As they exit — the publicist in her professional suit and skirt combo and Robert in his blue jeans and form-fitting blue sweater — Aaron can’t help but note the sudden rush of cool air filling the space where he’d been standing; a vacuum in this newly formed void.

He lets out a deep breath as the door shuts behind them, his mind constantly replaying the look of hurt in Robert’s eyes.

 _What you did was for the best_ , he keeps telling himself, trying to soothe the uneasy feeling away in his chest. _He can’t go around treating people like that._

Though as he walks back to his desk, Aaron can’t be sure if that’s for certain.  
  


:::::

 

He’s been trying to work on this assignment for the better part of an hour, but every time he tries to write something his mind just circles back to Robert and the look in his eyes before he’d left; betrayal tipping forward into hurt before coming out the other side as dark and lingering disappointment.

It hadn’t really affected him then in that moment, his having mostly been relieved that Robert had left the room. But now, sitting here, long after the fact, he can feel it settle on his shoulders, like a bitter aftertaste at the back of his mouth that he can’t quite get rid of.

Yet again, he tries to listen to music, doing his best to at least compile the bare bones of their list so they at have something to work off of when Robert returns. But with this song, like the others before it, he’s reminded of Robert. Only this round of memories has to do with specifically this morning: the firm grip on his arm, the taste of his lips, the note of broken pain in his voice.

_Pain that I put there._

So Aaron continues sitting there, his stomach starting to ache out of guilt, staring at the annoying blinking cursor in front of him as he wills words to appear on the page in front of him.

That’s how Jai and Chrissie find him, with his head in his hand and his mouse aimlessly clicking, barely any progress to show in terms of what he’s accomplished.

“... and this is where most of the writers sit,” Jai’s saying, his voice carrying across the space as he gives some sort of tour. “If I’m right, then these two desks belong to Robert and… _Aaron_?”

The surprised tone ricochets off him, and he looks up to find Jai standing over him, Chrissie at his side. She looks less formal than she had two days ago, even giving him a relaxed and friendly smile.

He tries to return it, but the best he can seem to manage is a nod and a close-mouthed grimace.

“What are you doing here? Where’s Robert?” Jai questions, apparently having no time for niceties even in front of their new owner. “You’re supposed to be working on that assignment right now. You know it’s due later today.”

“Yeah, but Robert’s at that photo shoot,” Aaron explains with a shrug, relieved for both this excuse and this break. 

“So?” Jai counters, not buying this excuse, even though they both know it’s fairly valid. “You’re not having your photo taken, are you? Which means you can sit there and keep typing.”

 _I’m not some flaming P.A._ , Aaron wants to argue, but then he looks over at Chrissie and bites his tongue, not wanting to risk jeopardising his pending proposal over some ultimately useless rudeness.

Thankfully he spots something. A perfect excuse. He waves at his headphones as he asks, “But what about the music?”

He thinks he has something but Jai just shrugs, clearly not caring about the integrity of the sound quality because he just responds, “Then it’s a good thing they invented speakers.”

Having had his say, he gestures for Chrissie to walk in front of him, which she does — but not before nodding and saying, “It was nice seeing you again, Aaron.”

As they walk away, Jai calls back over his shoulder, “I mean it, Aaron. You need to get it in today.”

A wave of annoyance passes over him, followed closely by dread, the feeling not doing his twisting stomach any favours.

He still gathers up his things — his laptop and his headphones — before clipping his ID to his belt and sliding his phone into his pocket.

Then sighing out loud, he sets off to the studio. Stuck with the knowledge he’ll have to face Robert.

 _Better sooner than later._  
  


:::::  
  


As he nears the studio, it begins to sink in, the sheer degree to which he’d overreacted this morning.

His stomach rolls with each step he takes closer and Aaron can’t help but feel like he deserves whatever’s coming next — after all, it was his dumb mouth that had gotten him into this mess in the first place. So perhaps it’s up to it to get him out again.

He tries to pinpoint the exact moment at which it had all gone so terribly wrong, the exact instant he’d decided his rules could go out the window. But then he gets stuck on the memory of last night, of Robert’s mouth on his, and how he’d truly wanted every last bit of it.

In that sense, he supposes, Robert was pretty much right. He’d known what he was doing and how much he’d wanted it.

_Then why couldn’t I just tell him that?_

As soon as he asks himself that question, he knows the real answer.

_Because of what happened last time._

His stomach starts churning faster, but for a different reason now, as he scrambles to push that memory away as fast as he can, not wanting it to ever see the surface; nowhere near ready to fall back down that rabbit hole.

He knows it’s been a few years, and that he really should be over it by now. But part of him can’t seem to ever let go, a dull ache forming in his chest any time he so much as thinks of it.

Still, he knows, today was not about that. So there was no real excuse to take it out on Robert.

But that still doesn’t mean he isn’t in the wrong, what with his blatant disregard for his feelings, and perhaps worse, his utter refusal to listen.

Because _yes_ , Aaron concedes, he actually enjoyed last night — and he’d be lying if he said he _hadn’t_ enjoyed the rest of their day together (that much even he can admit) — but that still doesn’t mean the whole thing wasn’t a massive mistake on his part; a terrible error in his judgement.

Because sleeping with, let alone dating, co-workers can be extremely messy. And as far as he can tell, nothing about dating Robert screams free and clean — or like it _wouldn’t_ lead directly to heartbreak. Look at the results of this morning!

 _That’s_ what he’d meant when he’d tried to tell Robert the problem was him. Only it had come out a big muddled mess, helped in no part by his rising feelings of annoyance at the time, seeing as none of the points he’d been making had really been sticking, what with Robert repeatedly questioning why they couldn’t give it a try instead.

That leaves him with only one course of action. If he wants to both finish the assignment _and_ maintain a working relationship with Robert Sugden, he’s going to have to apologise — or at least attempt to explain himself again.

Because despite everything in the last few hours, he really would like them to try and be friends. If only based on how much fun the two of them had had yesterday.

Having come to this decision, his stomach seems to settle, no longer twisting and rolling to the point of making him sick.

As he reaches for the door handle, he prepares himself any possible number of reactions, though he’s sure Robert will understand. He _does_ write a relationship column. Surely, he’ll get what Aaron’s saying.

With a sigh of relief and a definitive plan of action, he opens the photo studio door and goes in.  
  


:::::  
  


The first thing he notices when he slips into the photo studio is the big bed currently sitting in the centre of the room, both the pillows and mattress covered in rich, royal purple sheets, the colour only highlighted by the various key lights pointing at it; the only point of light in a room otherwise plunged in intentional darkness.

The next thing he notices, or pretty much zooms in on, is the flop of blonde hair as it catches the light, soft and shining golden as the owner dips his head to listen to whatever the person — who Aaron instantly recognises as their Director of Photography (and his distant cousin) Debbie Dingle — says as she points and gestures at the set-up behind him.

_Robert._

He stands there watching him just a moment longer, his eyes sweeping over backlit long limbs in the distance, surprised to see so much bare skin as Robert stands there kitted out in black boxer briefs and a navy blue t-shirt, instead of the outfit he’d come down in; his hair no longer styled upward in his regular coiff. 

Almost as if he senses him, Robert looks up and straight at him, what Aaron imagines to be glittering green eyes catching him out in the dark as they lock gazes — though he’s not sure if Robert can really see him where he’s standing.

He decides to step a little closer, inching forward slowly, a little closer to the light.

The room grows several degrees colder, Robert’s eyes narrowing before he looks away, his jaw now clenched and his shoulders tightening. He focuses his attention back to what Debbie’s saying, seemingly intent on ignoring Aaron.

Aaron knows it’s his fault that this is even happening, but it still doesn’t stop Robert’s reaction from stinging. After all the entire few days, they’ve really known each other, he realises as he stands there, Robert’s been entirely friendly and welcoming.

Robert’s not the only one who notices him, Nicola spotting him from over where she’s standing on the side of the room, her phone clutched in her hand as her arms remain crossed over her chest. She _click-clacks_ her way over almost immediately, as pointedly blunt as ever.

“What are you doing here? This is a closed shoot.”

Aaron doesn’t appreciate the accusatory tone in her voice, but he has bigger worries right now — like doing his job, and, hopefully, apologising to Robert.

He doesn’t take his eyes off him as he answers, keeps staring at him and his t-shirt clad shoulders, looking somehow softer than he’s ever seen him but also several degrees tenser. Aaron raises his voice as he answers, more for Robert’s benefit of hearing than hers.

“Jai sent me. We have an assignment due in a couple of hours. He wants us to work on it.”

He holds up the laptop and headphones in his arms as further proof, hoping it will sway them. It seems to work on Nicola who simply just sighs, but neither Debbie nor Robert seems to give a toss.

“Debs, it’s your call,” Nicola states as she looks up at her, a submission for final approval.

The younger woman just shrugs, clearly not bothered by it. Though she still turns to face Aaron as she says, “Just make sure you stay out of my way. And don’t be going and distracting Robert.”

She gestures at Robert as he stands right beside her, a towering Adonis of shadow and light. “I need his full attention.”

Aaron opens his mouth to speak, but it’s Robert who answers, finally looking up to meet his gaze.

“Oh you don’t need to worry about that,” he says, his voice a band of quiet iron. “Aaron here’s always willing to help out a _colleague_.”

He feels a pang in his chest at that and knows he deserves it. But somehow the bigger blow comes when Robert simply looks away, like he’s not worth a second longer of his time.

He wants to apologise, wants to scream it right now. But judging from the set of Robert’s shoulders and his tense hands on his hips, he can tell that this is entirely the wrong time for it.

So he decides to wait till Robert calms down. Or at least until he can get him alone for longer than a minute.

_At least that way I can explain._

“Where do you want me?” Aaron asks after a long minute of quiet waiting, his laptop growing heavier in his arms.

Shifting his gaze to Debbie, he waits until she sees fit to answer him, gesturing vaguely at what appears to be chair a few feet away.

Aaron nods and goes to make his way over, having to cut by her and Robert as he moves to the right, most other paths blocked by wires and light stands.

As he walks and moves to slide past him, their arms brush against each other, the line of Robert’s body rigid against him, Aaron feeling it through his thick hoodie sleeve; the resting hardness of Robert’s muscles easily evident.

“Sorry,” Aaron murmurs, grateful that at least Robert didn’t flinch — not that he could tell with his own jackrabbiting heart rate.

If Robert hears him, he gives him no reaction, his gaze still locked and loaded elsewhere… 

Anywhere…

Just not towards Aaron.

Stomach rapidly sinking, he locates the chair and takes a seat, opening the laptop in front of him and putting his headphones on. Though he doesn’t play any music, not quite ready, a little distracted by what’s going on in front of him.

He watches as Robert steps near the bed, gently guided there by Debbie’s instructions, the artificial white light softening all his features and making it seem like he’s just stumbled out of bed — no doubt the point of the shoot.

For a fleeting moment, Aaron wonders if this is what he’d looked like this morning when he’d woken up in Aaron’s bed.

He doesn’t wonder long, because the next second Robert takes his top off, now standing in the centre with his bare chest on display. His regular tan has been buffed up with bronzer, making the myriad of freckles only stand out more and giving his already sculpted muscles slightly more definition. He looks something like a statue, but altogether more real.

Aaron tries not to notice that Robert’s nipples are hard, the cold temperature doing him no favours. He jumps when Robert’s tossed away t-shirt lands at his feet, his legs spreading wider just to avoid it.

He continues to watch as Robert turns to listen to Debbie, giving him an eyeful of Robert’s underwear — not that he needs it after last night. He bites his lip, knowing he should look away. But he can’t seem to, mesmerised by Robert’s unconscious movements; the way he stands with one leg stuck out, most of his weight on his other hip, and the focus now inadvertently on his crotch; the heft of it visible from even here.

His own cock twitches under him, signalling that he _needs_ to look away, so Aaron reaches for the only distraction available to him at the moment: work.

Adjusting his headphones, he cues up the next song on his list — Janelle Monae’s “Make Me Feel” — and quickly hits PLAY.

Distracted by the track’s body percussion and ‘80s inspired synth line, Aaron begins to type, his fingers flying across his laptop keyboard — only to be brought to a halt by the very audible moan early on in the track, his cheeks quickly growing warm as his mind inevitably returns to Robert.

Looking up, he sees that there’s no real way of avoiding it, as the man in question is currently on his hands and knees on the bed, slowly crawling his way to the front of it.

_Baby, don’t make me spell it out for ya…_

He comes up right against the edge before he lays down on his belly, his long legs stretching out behind him, his hands clasped in front of him, almost as if he’s doing a plank, no doubt to accentuate his arm muscles.

_All of the feelings that I’ve got for ya…_

Based on Debbie’s instructions he rests his chin on his hands, looking straight towards the camera, which Aaron realises is just a few inches to the left of where he’s now sitting. The flush sweeping up his neck gets warmer.

_Can’t be explained, but I can try for ya…_

A photo assistant runs forward, sliding a closed laptop under his arms, making it seem like he’s just taken a break from (nakedly) answering his readers. Still gazing forward, Robert flashes what can only be described as his signature smile; half cocky, half knowing and just shy of punchable.

_Yeah, Baby, don’t make me spell it out for ya…_

A photo’s taken, Robert comes up to straddling, a makeup artist rushing forward to apply some more bronzer, her hands rubbing his chest to blend it in. Robert must say something because she starts giggling, retreating back into the shadows with her shoulders still shaking. Robert smiles, clearly pleased with himself. Aaron’s cheeks feel like they’re on fire.

_You keep asking me the same questions…_

The next pose involves Robert stretching out sideways, his long form cutting across the bed diagonally so that his underwear is clearly visible; the dark fabric a nice compliment to his warm-toned skin, the thin fabric highlighting the firm curve of his bum. Robert reaches around and drapes a purple sheet over it, giving it the illusion of being naked. But from where Aaron’s sitting he can still make out the words ‘CALVIN KLEIN’ visible in white across the top.

_And second guessing all my intentions…_

A moment later, Robert fixes it himself, pulling the sheet a little higher to cover him better. As his long fingers fiddle with the fabric, which keeps sliding down, Aaron can’t help but remember what it was like to feel them on his body; a few bruises having formed on the back of his thighs. He starts to shift in his seat, his jeans growing more uncomfortable by the second. But he doesn’t know how to make it stop, so he just keeps watching as Robert has his photo taken; the prop laptop open in front of him to look like he’s typing.

_Should know by the way I use my compression…_

This pose complete, Robert gets back up to his knees, nodding briefly before pushing himself back onto his bum and leaning back on his hands, his long legs stretched out in front of him, the blonde hairs on them catching the light. He tugs at the sheets under him, and pulls them up to cover his groin, maintaining that same illusion of nudity. Leaning back, he curls both arms on the pillow, before resting his head back on his hands. Aaron bites his lip and the straining intensifies, his dick graduating to throbbing.

_That you've got the answers to my confessions…_

Debbie must say something because Robert sits up and nods, pulling the open laptop next to him, to make it seem as if he’d been on it just a few seconds ago. He then ruffles his own hair, making it look as flat and messed up as it had last night — when he’d come with a groan right under him.

Robert lays back down on his hands again. But while the pose looks good, even Aaron can tell something’s missing, and _he’s_ too busy trying to regulate his breathing

_It's like I'm powerful with a little bit of tender…_

Robert seems to come up with the fix himself, slowly sliding himself a little lower from where he was laying, his back arching and his groin lifting, almost like he’s thrusting at air; the sheet slips from its previous place. Robert manages to catch it at the last second, his left hand just laying across his crotch. Aaron swallows roughly and tries not to focus on this fingers, and the feel of having them in his hair.

 _An emotional, sexual bender…_  

But it would appear that Robert’s not done, because then he’s reaching out to shut the laptop and slide it across his lap, stopping exactly where his cock would be. Once again, he leaves his left hand in place, just laying there holding it to him. Comfortable once more, he lets his legs relax again, both of them kicking out casually in front of him. Aaron keeps staring, back to biting his lip, his pounding pulse almost drowning out the music.

_Mess me up, yeah, but no one does it better…_

As a finishing touch, Robert tips his neck back a little and sticks out his chin, simultaneously a simulation of pleasure and an act of defiance.

_There's nothin' better…_

And then, as if he’s looking straight at Aaron, he smiles; the same one from before. The one that had tipped him over the edge, and flung him towards his climax.

_That's just the way you make me feel…_

The next thing he knows, Debbie is calling it a wrap, as Aaron sits there clutching his laptop over his lap, grip-whitened knuckles holding the sides, his breath coming hard and fast.

 _That’s just the way you make me feel…_  

He pushes his laptop shut.

:::::

 

He waits until he’s got his breathing and his body under control again before he dares to try and approach Robert where he’s currently standing off in the corner, almost completely covered in shadow, apart from light coming in from a nearby door cracked ajar. 

With Nicola off in a call, and Debbie instructing the rest of the photo team through their clean up, Aaron seizes his chance to finally talk to him.

Leaving his laptop and headphones still in that chair, he makes his way over, waiting the obligatory few seconds until Robert’s done wiping off his bronzer and sliding his sweater back on, before he goes up to him.

“Who knew havin’ your own column means you have to pose practically naked, eh?” The tone he’s going for is light and playful, but his voice tapers out at the end.

Robert just looks at him, and a chill settles in his chest, his stomach twisting and rolling once again. As he watches him slowly and silently start to pull the hem down over his torso and smooth it out, Aaron decides to drop any attempts at small-talk and shoot straight from the heart.

“I wanted to say sorry, for earlier,” he begins, both hands jammed in his pockets, his tone remorseful as he adds, “I shouldn’t have said those things to ya.”

That seems to get Robert, who stops what he’s doing, his spine standing a little straighter, a little stiffer, as he turns to face him.

“But you did, didn’t you?” He fires back. He shakes his head as he resumes buttoning up. “Don’t worry. It’s good to know the truth.”

If Aaron didn’t know better, he’d say Robert sounds hurt. But then looking into his eyes, a dark and stormy green, and he can see large traces of the pain he put in there. His stomach churns harder.

“But that’s not what I think of ya,” Aaron insists, trying to convey his truth.

“Don’t lie, Aaron,” Robert tells him bitterly. “You’re better than that.”

“I’m not lying now, and I wasn’t lying then either,” Aaron tries to explain, his words getting garbled up again in his close proximity to Robert. “I mean, I still don’t like you like that, and I still think last night was a mistake, but I think we can still be friends.”

Robert pauses his buttoning, turning to face Aaron, his eyes studying his face with intensity.

“Well, then I guess last night was a mistake for both of us,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“What do you mean?” Aaron asks, confused as to his meaning.

Robert takes a step closer, shaking his head, before looking him straight in the eye.

“You know, you go around telling people to be their ‘true selves’ and ‘not to be scared of putting yourself out there,’” Robert says, his voice growing louder. “Well, maybe you should start taking your own advice.”

Before he can interrupt, Robert continues to draw closer.

“You’re so scared that there could be something between us, you’re willing to make up any excuse to not give it a try. And for what? What are you so afraid of Aaron?” Robert takes a breath and then continues, his voice now an angry hiss. “Is it being gay? Are you ashamed of it or something?”

“No. Of course not,” Aaron counters, quick and determined. There might have been a time in his life when he'd felt something like that. But that was many years ago, in a different time and place.

“Then what is it? What hurt you so badly that you’d rather be a coward and take the easy way out? That you’d rather live in denial than have something real?” Robert asks, unrelenting in his pained quest for understanding. He shakes his head as he looks away, his voice coming back to a defeated whisper. “I liked you, Aaron. I really liked you. But this? This isn’t the Aaron Dingle I fell for.”

His words hit his chest like a ton of bricks, knocking the wind out of him and forcing him to a take step back, his back now against the wall, as his bum is forced flat against it.

Robert still edges closer, his breath is on his lips, his bare chest just centimetres away from Aaron’s covered one. He thinks, for a fleeting moment, of reaching out and touching him; of placing his hand over his heart, to check if it’s beating as fast as his.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, they just stand there, chests lightly heaving, gazing into each other’s eyes, almost as if willing the other into submission.

Robert’s neck twitches and Aaron thinks he’s about to lean down, when he stops himself mid-movement, pulling back instead with a shuddering breath, before grabbing his belted jeans and turning to leave. 

“Maybe think about why you don’t have a favourite love song,” Robert says quietly before he turns and starts to exit.

The air he leaves behind is considerably colder, Aaron’s body already shivering from the lack of any warmth.  
  


:::::  
  


He feels worse by lunch, unable to stomach a single bite of his sandwich, usually demolishing his choice of toasted bread and pesto shredded chicken within seconds of purchasing it. Instead, he just sits there and picks at it while listening to Adam go on about Vic and what a great time they’d had together having gone out for dinner and a movie — making sure he smiles and nods at all the right places. 

But even then, his best friend can sense that something is up, so he takes a pause from his continued gushing to ask him, “Everything alright, mate?”

“Yeah,” Aaron deflects with an empty nod of his head, his hands playing with the sandwich wrapper in front of him.

“Aw come on, don’t give me that,” Adam says giving him a nudge. “I’m your best friend. You’re supposed to tell me when stuff’s botherin’ ya.”

For a brief second, Aaron debates telling Adam what happened with Robert — from the day before to last night to this morning — but then the more he thinks about it, the more he can’t seem to bring himself to. Having already endured too much of Adam calling Robert his boyfriend to give it any actual credence.

 _Besides, it’s not like anything else is going to happen_ , he thinks. But it’s followed quickly by, _Then why does it feel so bad?_

In an effort to distract himself, and maybe get a more objective opinion, he decides to bring up Robert’s chief complaint, the one whose words are eating him up inside.

“Do you think I’m holding myself back?” He asks, his voice rough, but still softer than usual. He can see Adam lean in to hear him better. He quickly adds, “You know, romantically.”

He watches him carefully as Adam just sighs, clearly already having thought about this before and having come up with an answer.

“What do you want me to say, mate?” He shrugs, looking at Aaron apologetically. “I mean what happened, yeah, that was hard. But it’s been two years now. It’s time you started to move on.”

He nods at the answer, giving it some thought. But it would seem that Adam’s not finished making his point.

“Oh, you know who you should ask about this,” he says, eyes bright and twinkling, a big dumb grin on his face like it is any time he gets what he feels is a brilliant idea. “Robert!”

Aaron doesn’t know why, but it makes him laugh out loud, despite being well aware that his best friend is not joking.

“What?” Adam questions, baffled by his response. He smacks him on the arm as he continues, “Come on! He’s a relationship expert! And he gives brilliant advice. Trust me, if there’s anyone who can help you it would be him!”

His amusement eventually cools, fading into the occasional chuckle, Aaron gathering himself up as he says, “Forget him. Tell me about his sister. What else happened with Vic?”

He knows Adam knows what he’s doing, playing to his interests so he’ll let the subject drop. Thankfully, his best friend doesn’t mind — more than used to it by now — more than happy to keep talking about Victoria Sugden. “I’m tellin’ ya man, she might really be the one. I’m actually thinkin’ of askin’ her if she wants to make it official.”

Aaron raises his eyebrows, nodding at this news, happy for his friend and his potential future girlfriend.

“Might even call Sophie tonight and tell her it’s off,” Adam says cheerily, as if he’s just going to ring her for a polite chat. But then he seems to realise as he turns to him and says, “Maybe you can do me a massive favour? Call Nick and see if he’ll go out with you, yeah? Might help cushion the blow a little.”

“You want me to date her brother just so you can have a smoother break up?” He asks, not entirely sure if Adam’s joking.

“Oh come on!” Adam pleads, thumping the table. “What happened to all this, 'not holding yourself romantically' stuff from a few seconds ago?”

Aaron’s brow furrows as he looks over at his friend, ceasing playing with the plastic wrapper for a moment. “That’s still not going to change the fact that I don’t like him.”

Adam sighs loudly, clearly disappointed. “You know, you make it _so_ hard sometimes.”

He stuffs his last bite in his mouth and then scrunches up the plastic of his own sandwich, crumbs spraying out as he then says, “You know, it’s too bad you don’t like Robert. Because at least then we could double date.”

For once, Aaron’s glad he’s not eating, because even without food in his mouth he nearly chokes. 

_You don’t even know._

But what he says instead is, “You just worry about your own relationships. Stop worrying about mine.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Adam says, getting to his feet, his chair grinding against the tile under him as he pushes against it to rise. “Ready?”

He isn’t really, but he nods anyway, his mind still on Robert as he mirrors Adam’s actions, still turning his advice over in his head.

_Maybe it is time to move on. Though certainly not with Robert._

The more he thinks about it, the more he reckons he could give a dating app a chance — if only to see the look on Robert’s face when he proves him wrong.

_Who’s scared now?_

But as he throws away the rest of his sandwich, another thought still lingers in his head, the seed of it now a dull sting.

_That isn’t the Aaron Dingle I fell for._  
  


:::::  
 

When he gets back to his desk, Robert’s already there; his head down, headphones in, fingers already busy at work, typing up a storm.

_Or maybe another column._

Aaron just stands there, clearing his throat, hoping that Robert will catch on to his presence.

Right on cue, Robert does look up. But instead of silence and resistance, he’s met with apologetic neutrality; Robert not so much as cracking a smile at seeing him, where before there would have been a wide happy one in its stead. All Aaron gets now is a stone-faced nod.

“Hey,” he greets him softly, as he remains sitting.

“Hey,” Aaron answers, still on his feet.

Between them, the silence just stretches; a thin band of rubber pulled tighter and tighter…

Until something snaps and suddenly they’re both speaking.

“Sorry-”

“I’m-”

They both stop as soon as they start, each waiting for the other to continue; neither of them able to maintain eye contact for too long.

Like it’s been since he met him, Robert’s the one who leaps, swallowing tensely as he gazes up at Aaron.

“You were right, about earlier. I should have listened,” he says, his voice quiet. “Instead, I just made everything about myself. Turned what should have stayed professional… personal. I’m sorry about that.”

Aaron nods, more than ready to accept his apology, and already on his way to state his own list of wrongs.

“But it’s not just you, is it?” He argues, his eyes not leaving Robert’s face. “What I said earlier, that was wrong. But I swear I wasn’t trying to be hurtful. I was just…”

“Trying to be honest?” Robert asks, a sad smile on his face. Aaron notes, sadly, that at least this one reaches his eyes.

“Kind of,” Aaron shrugs, but he feels no malice on Robert’s part, not meaning any from his side either. “I was really hopin’ we could go back to bein’ friends. Like how we were… before.”

_For those three days and a half days that I knew you._

He thinks back to both of them walking and waiting for the bus, repeatedly jostling and teasing one another, and he feels a wave of warmth spread through his chest; as well as a wistful desire to go back to that moment.

“You really think you and me can be friends?” Robert asks, his tone veering slightly into teasing, a rueful smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Yeah,” Aaron nods, his own tone following Robert over. “You’re actually quite funny sometimes. You know, when you’re not too busy worrying about your shoes.”

Robert rolls his eyes at that, but he still manages a smile. It’s smaller than all his others, but Aaron holds on to it, as some of the awkwardness between them starts to dissipate — though not entirely. Aaron supposes that will just have to come with time.

“Well, lucky for you, we’ve got other things to worry about,” Robert says, the change of topic helping clear the air somewhat. “Like this assignment that’s due in a few hours.”

“Oh, I already made us a list,” Aaron informs him, a weight off his shoulders. Unlike Robert, work is something he knows he can handle. “Check your email. I think I’ve already sent it.”

He stands there waiting, as Robert does what he says, watching as he clicks and types and browses, a small crease forming on his brow as he focuses.

“Figured we can just split it in the middle,” he shrugs, as Robert finds and reads it. “One of us could take the odd numbers, the other takes the evens.”

“I can take the odd,” Robert says, eyes still skimming his screen. He pauses to look up and wiggle his eyebrows at Aaron — like he hadn’t had his balls in his hand last night. “Lucky number 69.”

_Maybe we can be friends._

Aaron rolls his eyes and goes to take his seat, glad to have gotten that settled.

As he fires up his laptop yet again, there’s a kind of weight settling on his chest, a kind of sinking feeling he can’t quite seem to put a finger on…  
  


:::::  
  


They’re making good progress, practically blazing their way through the list, copying and pasting each of their list blurbs in a shared Google document — one of the few times Aaron’s grateful for modern technology.

The last two hours haven’t been as awkward as he’d expected, given their recent — and still tenuous — detente. But they still haven’t found their way back, to that same kind of joking, something Aaron’s starting to miss more than he can admit.

He pauses in the middle of yet another track, not listening to the whole song lest he think of Robert, one of the major reasons why they’re both in his mess. So he just keeps on writing, keeps his mind on the music in a concentrated effort to get Robert’s naked body out of his head.

_Friends don’t think of other friends naked. Friends don’t constantly remember how other friends looked when they came._

However, every now and then, he’ll feel like he’s possibly being watched. But when he looks up, Robert’s attentions are focused on his own work, his brow furrowing in that same way again.

Aaron almost smiles before getting back to work.

He’s in the middle of a write-up, when he senses a presence next to him. He looks up to find Finn, standing over them and dithering; like a bespeckled scarecrow emitting nervous energy.

“Robert, right?” Finn asks, his voice coming out squeaky.

It takes him a second, but Aaron watches as Robert looks up, his distracted eyes finally focusing on and taking in this new person in front of him.

“I’m Finn,” he greets, continuing to introduce himself in the face of Robert’s silence. “I work in the entertainment section, with Aaron. I’m the editorial assistant.”

Robert looks him over for a moment, before smiling and saying, “Guess I’ll know where to go for assistance.”

It’s a good joke, even Aaron smiles, but they all know it’s not worthy of the almost-guffaw Finn produces, like he’s just heard the funniest joke in his life.

“That’s a good one,” he says, and Robert smiles and nods, waiting for whatever he’s going to say next.

It takes him a few seconds, but Finn eventually gets there, almost stuttering his way through his question. “I- I was thinking, since you’re new here, maybe I could show you around? Introduce you to a few friendly faces.”

He pauses and then adds, laughing at his own joke, “Well, friendlier than Aaron’s at least.”

Robert’s smile doesn’t fade, and for that, he’s almost grateful. But then he replies, looking right over at him, “Don’t worry. Aaron’s been friendly in his own way.”

He has to look away, can feel himself blushing furiously, his mouth too dry to retort.

Beside him, Finn’s busy chuckling, the sound hollow and fake. It fades as he tries again, his voice trembling just the slightest, “We could go get a cup of coffee right now, if you’re not too busy.”

Aaron wants to snap, _Yeah, we are actually._ But he just bites his tongue trying to focus on work in front of him. This is Robert’s domain anyway.

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

Aaron’s ears burn, and Finn keeps sputtering. He looks over to Robert only to see his eyes flick back at him briefly, but not staying long enough so he can read him.

Surprisingly, Finn doesn’t demure as Aaron expects him to.

“Uh, yeah,” he admits, never having known what’s good for himself, can’t seem to sense Robert laying a trap for his heart to get broken. Aaron looks away, unable to watch him get turned down. “Guess I am, if that’s alright.”

Robert doesn’t say anything — at least not right away — when he does, he just shrugs, “Why not? Been a while.”

Aaron’s jaw drops, now openly staring, his pulse thundering in his ears, his mind still trying to comprehend it.

_Did Robert Sugden just say yes to going on a date with Finn Barton?_

He starts to get worked up, not sure what he’s more annoyed at, Robert not having the decency to let Finn down easy now, or the fact that their own night together might have meant so little. Especially after his admission from earlier.

_That’s not the Aaron Dingle I fell for._

But before he can question it or even protest, Robert’s already handing Finn his unlocked phone. “Why don’t you give me your details and we can set it up.”

Finn nods so excitedly his glasses slip down his nose a little. But he slides them back up it as he moves to add his number in.

“You know, this used to be my desk,” he tells Robert, as if the fact really means something.

It’s stupid, but now Aaron can’t stop thinking of Robert sitting in Finn’s old chair, something about that detail getting under his skin, yet another Robert-related annoyance to add to his list.

When he’s finished, he hands the phone back, saying, “I’m free later tonight, if you are.”

And then he turns to leave, almost scurrying away as if the thought of his last line scared even him.

Robert locks his phone and puts it on his desk, looking over at Aaron and asking, “What?”

“Nothing,” Aaron shrugs, even though it’s starting to feel like something more. “Just didn’t expect ya to do that, that’s all.”

“Well, I’m full of surprises like that,” Robert smiles, his tone light and casual, but this one doesn’t quite reach his eyes either. “And you know what they say, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. Might as well give that a try.”

He knows it’s a joke, a common saying, even — not to mention one Adam’s mentioned to _him_ several times — but Aaron’s stomach still does that sinking thing again.

He realises he’s discovered what is actually worse: the thought of Robert actually _sleeping_ with Finn.

“But you can’t,” he blurts out, nowhere near nice and friendly.

“Why not?” Robert asks, his voice getting colder. “It’s not like I’m seeing anyone else.”

Aaron can hear the implication in it loud and clear.

_It’s not like I’m seeing you._

“‘Cause it’s Finn,” he tries to reason, though he knows it’s not much of one.

“Careful, Aaron,” Robert warns, his tone like the edge of a sharp dagger. “You almost sound jealous.” 

“Yeah, well you’re co-workers,” Aaron continues, going for reason number two. But almost immediately as it comes out, he knows he’s said the wrong thing; their attempt at friendship coming to a quick and fatal end.

“You know what?” Robert says, getting up to his feet, and reaching around him for his leather jacket. “I’m actually done here. So I think I’ll head home. It’s been a bit of a long day.”

And then, as if he remembers the assignment. “Read it over and let me know if I’m missing anything. But I’m pretty sure I’ve got all of them.”

Without further ado, he shuts his laptop and leaves, his copy of _Home Farm_ , tucked under one leather-jacketed arm.

Aaron scrolls through the document and sees he’s indeed right, coming to a pause on No. 69: _“_ Boom Boom Boom” by the Vengaboys.

The inclusion at the time has been a bit of a joke, a subtle dig at Robert while also making amends. But reading the summary now, he can’t help but feel Robert’s right, the other writer having expounded on the sexiness of laughing someone into bed, of sharing smiles that turn into kisses. 

His heart continues sinking, but Aaron continues to write on. Deadlines don’t care about feelings.  
  


:::::  
 

He manages to file the story just in time, the article having coming out better than expected, Robert’s half turning out to complement his own, matching the tone almost word for word.

But by the time he hits SEND and leaves his editor a note, Aaron’s mind has already moved on to other matters — most notably Finn and Robert’s date.

He tells himself not to let it bother him, and that it’s none of his business. Only the longer he thinks about it, the more it becomes clear that Finn is actually a terrible fit for Robert, what with his constant whining and moaning about everything in his life and the way he nitpicks the minutest of details.

Aaron had once tried to watch a film with him when they’d all hung out. He’s still surprised he hadn’t killed him.

 _How hard is it to appreciate Rocky Balboa_?

 _Still_ , his mind insists, getting back on track. _That just doesn’t seem very Robert Sugden_.

For instance, he reasons, as he thinks back, he’s fairly certain he’s never really had a fun non-work related conversation with Finn, let alone told him a joke that wasn’t questioned and picked apart till death, Finn’s sense of humour being somewhat relentless.

He doesn’t mean to, but he keeps comparing Finn to himself, trying to base it off his recent experiences with Robert.

_Just a friend looking out for another friend._

Like how while he may not always laugh at Robert’s jokes, he doesn’t _not_ laugh either. He just tends to enjoy them in his own way, and he thinks Robert gets that. It’s why they’d had as much fun as they’d had yesterday.

That thought at least makes him feel a little better.

But then he remembers what Tracy had said, about Finn and Robert actually having a lot in common. Getting to his feet, he eyes the TARDIS mug and the Yoda Post-it’s, knowing that Finn and Robert probably do have a lot they could share and discuss, Robert’s secret nerd side giving them a firmer connection.

The thought prickles under his skin, and at the back of his neck, and he has to remind himself that he’s just doing this out of friendly concern. Because it’s not like _he_ wants to date Robert Sugden. After all, wasn’t that the point of this morning?

 _Last night was a mistake_ , he repeats to himself, but then another voice rises, a little more firm and questioning. _But does it have to be?_

Because Adam had been right, on more than two counts. Not only is it time for him to move on, but that perhaps dating Robert might actually be nice.

 _Maybe Robert_ _was right_ , Aaron thinks, slowly hating himself further. _He is full of surprises._

He thinks back to lunch the previous day, when Robert had gushed and grinned over Victoria and her enthusiasm for his selfies, as well as how she’d been consulting him on his date. Only it hits him now, it’s not because her brother is meant to be a relationship expert or because he’s her older brother, but because they’re friends and she’d known that he’d liked him.

_This isn’t the Aaron Dingle I fell for._

His heart starts to pound, this time from regret, unable to believe that he might have thrown something like this away.

_And for what? A couple of tweets because I was jealous?_

And just like that, the realisation sinks in, a low sun rising in the East.

_I think I might like Robert Sugden._

Before he can interrogate that thought any further, he’s distracted by the notification of a new email.

It’s from Jai and it’s addressed to everyone on staff, the subject is ‘Robert’s Column.’

Unable to help himself, Aaron clicks on it, only to be greeted with a _very_ familiar image of Robert.

It’s the last one from the shoot, the one Debbie had closed on; Robert looking straight into the camera with that sexy, knowing smile, his hair all tousled and the laptop just _barely_ doing its job.

 

 

Deep inside him, something pangs hard and heavy, tasting of growing panic, a hot wave of it rushing through his body.

He thinks of Finn Barton getting to see _this_ in the flesh, of Robert sleeping with him just to forget him.

Staring at it now, it can’t be clearer what he wants — which means he has to go over and stop it.  
  


:::::  
 

His Uber’s been stuck in traffic for the last 10 minutes, Robert’s home address still saved on the app. 

As he sits and waits restlessly, only half listening to his driver — some guy named Doug — yammer on about communal gardening, he scrolls through Robert and Finn’s social media in the hopes of figuring out where they are.

A quick check of Instagram reveals no new posts from either of them, not even one of Finn’s annoying snapshots of his dinner.

Though Aaron does take a second to pause on Robert’s last post, that photo of him standing in the record shop, smiling like he’s never seen. For a brief moment, he tries to imagine what it was that Robert had seen in that instant.

But all that he can think is, _This is what he thinks of me._

His heart sinks further as he thinks of all the things he said, each managing to sound worse than the other.

Endlessly frustrated, and his heart still pounding, he logs into Twitter instead, trying not to think about Robert’s face with each revelation.

Robert’s Twitter page is silent, no posts or replies in the last couple of hours, not since that spate of offending tweets this morning. Though with a little light investigation — tapping on @ChefMike’s profile — even they’re revealed to be harmless, this other man happily married to another man with two kids of their own and a professional acquaintance of Robert’s.

 _Why didn’t he say anything?_ But just like before, he knows the answer as soon as he asks. _Didn’t give him a chance, did I?_

He’s just landed on Finn’s profile when it actually happens.

Finn tweets something new.

 **@Finn_Tastic:** Finally know what “shoot your shot” means. Guess that makes me #blessed.

Aaron stares at the offending words, growing more panicked by the moment, his mind already picturing Finn and Robert kissing.

He’s snapped out of it when he sees a notification under it. He taps and sees that Tracy’s replied: a kiss emoji followed by a sequence of women dancing.

That settles it right there. He needs to get there before anything really happens. 

He bolts out of the car, leaving poor Doug flustered and yelling, a faint backdrop to the thundering of his heart.  
  


:::::  
  


He lies to Robert’s doorman, tells him he’s here to bring him his forgotten work ID. The man takes one look at him, and his sweaty dishevelled self, and sighs deeply, but still gives him the apartment number anyway.

The elevator ride up is excruciatingly long, Aaron able to practically feel the passage of each and every second, even though he’s only going a few floors up.

He tries to use the time to think of what to say, but everything he comes up with sounds too dumb or too silly.

Because how do you apologise adequately to a man you grossly misjudged and then proceeded to insult and hurt his feelings?

With those thoughts still playing in his mind, he marches down Robert’s hallway.

When he finds his door, he stops right in front of it.

He takes a deep breath, and then bangs on the door, holding his breath when it opens…  
  


:::::  
 

It’s Robert, standing there right in the flesh, wearing another dark t-shirt and grey sweatpants, his hair flat like during the photo shoot — not shirtless with Finn like he’d imagined.

 _Unless they’re having a night in_.

Without waiting for an invitation, Aaron barrels right past him, eyes quickly scanning the warmly lit space for any sign of their offending co-worker. Only as he gazes around the living room, across the long, white, completely packed bookcase on the right and the couch and coffee table on the left, he doesn’t see any traces of anyone else in here. Just an open laptop, and a cup of tea beside it. A discarded blanket on the side.

“Where’s Finn?” He demands, spinning round to face Robert, his voice stressed and still breathless, his heart still beating too fast for his chest.

“Finn? Why would he be here?” Robert asks, clearly confused. But a second later the penny drops, and he’s left staring knowingly back at him.

Sighing deeply, he rubs a hand across his face. “What are you doing here, Aaron?”

He tries to remember all those points that had been running through his mind on his way here, but all that comes out is a blurted out, “You were right.”

He waits another second, before he adds, “I like you, Robert.”

He waits for Robert to respond, but he just continues to stand there, eventually just moving to shut the front door.

“Any chance I can get an, ‘I like you’ back?” Aaron jokes, hoping to lighten the mood and put a smile on Robert's face. But he just sighs dejectedly.

“You don’t really mean that,” he says, as he turns around to face him, crossing both arms across his chest. “You’re just feeling a little jealous. That’s perfectly normal after you sleep with someone. Don’t worry. You’ll be back to thinking it’s a mistake tomorrow.”

“But it wasn’t a mistake, was it?” Aaron asks, growing increasingly annoyed at Robert’s inability to hear him. “Robert, I really do like ya. You were right earlier, about me bein’ scared.” 

“Then why’d you come here, bangin’ on about Finn?” Robert questions, gesturing in front of him.

Aaron shakes his head and rolls his eyes, “Don’t be daft. Of course, I was jealous. How would _you_ feel if the guy you liked was going on a date with another man?”

Robert doesn’t say anything, just remains where he’s standing, arms still crossed in front of him.

Sensing his careful hesitation, Aaron’s smile fades, saddened at the knowledge of the pain his own words have caused.

“I couldn’t let you date Finn once I realised how I felt about you, could I?” he tells Robert quietly. “Not after knowing how you’d felt about me.”

He pauses, looks down at his hands, before looking back up at Robert. “How I’m hoping you still feel about me.”

“And how do I know you’re not going to regret this?” Robert asks, still not budging, though Aaron could swear he sees his arms relax a little. “Call it another mistake tomorrow morning, just because you couldn’t stand the thought of me with some other bloke.”

“Because _that_ was my real mistake,” Aaron tells him truthfully, hoping he can see his honesty for what it is. “Tellin’ you all that stuff. Last night was anything but a mistake. Last night was…”

He doesn’t need to think, seeing the truth for what it is, crystal clear and in front of him. “Last night was what I wanted. I wanted to kiss ya. Just like at the concert. I wanted to hold your hand.”

Robert frowns at that, and Aaron’s heart nearly stops. His brow furrows as he shoots back. “Why? What’s wrong with that?”

“Wasn’t really a full hand was it?” Robert asks, face deadly serious. “Just a couple of fingers.”

As the words sink in, relief immediately washes over him, Aaron breaking into a large happy smile, one that is slowly being matched by Robert, clearly pleased that his joke has landed.

Aaron shakes his head and mutters, “Idiot.”

“I thought this was supposed to be an apology,” Robert points out as he slowly steps towards him. Both his hands are now in his pants pockets, and his tone and gaze are growing infinitely warmer — or perhaps that’s the flush sweeping up Aaron’s face and neck. “You’re supposed to be convincing me to want to date you. Remember?”

“What? Running over and apologising immediately wasn’t enough?” Aaron retorts, his eyes meeting Robert’s, grinning as he comes even closer.

Robert appears to give it some thought, his thin lips pursing, “You did say, that was because of Finn…”

Aaron shakes his head, as Robert now stands in front of him, looking down into his eyes, the greenish blue in them twinkling.

“Should I just call him, so you can date him instead?” He teases, excitement starting to fizz up inside him at the thought of Robert’s lips being so achingly near. “I’m sure he’d be up here in a minute.”

Robert’s too busy grinning and shaking his head, his eyes flicking down to Aaron’s mouth, he licks his lips before he meets his eyes again.

“Shut up, you idiot, and kiss me.”

Aaron does what he says, eagerly leaning forward and taking Robert’s bottom lip in his, his hands come down to rest on Robert’s waist, his fingers curling in the well-worn fabric of his t-shirt.

They deepen the kiss a few moments later, Robert licking at the seams of his lips, and Aaron immediately parting, their tongues sliding together at long last.

Eager for a repeat of last night — and aching to run his hands across Robert’s bare chest — Aaron moves to undress Robert, his hands sliding under the hem of his t-shirt, getting ready to pull it up, his knuckles grazing against the warm skin of Robert’s sides.

But Robert pulls away, wraps his hands around Aaron’s wrists, and slides them over to rest on his bum.

“Think it’s my turn now,” he jokes as he leans in to resume kissing. Aaron responds with a very distracted hum.

He can feel the warmth of Robert’s thick muscles through the heavy fabric, the firm curve of him under his palms. He starts to slowly knead it, feels Robert relax against his touch, groaning low into his mouth.

They start to grind together, their groins pressed in tight, the front of Robert’s pants doing nothing to hide his growing erection, his bulge rubbing against the already straining fabric of Aaron’s jeans.

He feels a hand leave his waist to come up and cup at his cheek, Robert’s palm now resting along his jawline. He hums with pleasure as he feels a thumb stroke the line of his beard, tracing it slowly as he smiles into the kiss. The warmth of the gesture soaks him down to his toes, making his cock grow all the harder.

A few moments later, Robert breaks away again, leaning his forehead against Aaron as he breathlessly grins, “Want to go back to my place?”

It’s cheesy as hell, but it still makes him laugh. Aaron squeezes Robert’s bum in agreement.

“Why not?” He murmurs, his lips grazing Robert’s. “Might as well see what you’ve got.” 

Robert gives him a peck on the lips, and then steps away silently, Aaron instantly feeling the loss of his warmth. Not that he minds much, an excited buzzing filling its place, as he slides his fingers into Robert’s hand and lets him lead him back into the bedroom.

He barely has a second to appreciate the impeccably made bed, or the dark blue sheets, before Robert’s swinging him around so his back is facing it, walking them back a bit, and then pulling Aaron close to him, holding him by the waist with one arm.

As they resume kissing, Robert pushes his hoodie off his shoulders and down his arms, the warm fabric falling all bunched up at their feet.

Next to come off is Aaron’s t-shirt, Robert all but tugging it off of him and tossing it to the side. Their lips meeting as Aaron’s hands once again find Robert’s bum; Robert groaning in contentment.

That’s why he’s surprised when Robert’s hands slide up to his shoulders, gently pushing him down until he’s sitting on the bed, the back of his legs pressed right against it, draped right over the edge.

Aaron sits there, tightly wound and restless, as he breathlessly slides his way back up the bed, before he just lets himself lay across the firm mattress, his bare back absorbing the soft coolness from the comforter underneath, as the lower half of his legs — still clothed in jeans — dangle over the edge; lying there in waiting.

He waits a few seconds, feeling the distinct lack of Robert, his crotch growing increasingly uncomfortable with each passing minute.

With a grunt of frustration, he pushes himself up onto his elbows, only to find Robert just standing there and staring; eyes dark, lips swollen and red as the skin around it, his pants down around his ankles.

“What?” Aaron groans, grumpy from the discomfort, his dick now starting to throb.

That seems to wake Robert up, and he strips his t-shirt off and throws it aside as well. He smiles and looks down at him. “Just never thought we’d be doing _this_ again.”

“Well, you better hurry up,” Aaron starts to grumble, spreading his legs a bit for relief. “Or _you_ won’t be doin’ anything.”

His eyes flicker down to his jeans, where it feels like he’s practically tenting, as he comes up to meet Robert’s gaze. 

His jaw drops and his thoughts trail off as he takes in the sight of Robert slowly grinning as he kneels on the bed, his legs straddling either side of him. Eyes locked and holding Aaron’s stare, he slowly crawls his way up to Aaron’s gaping mouth, his tongue flicking out and wetting his lips as he inches closer.

Once they’re face to face, Robert lowers his mouth for a kiss, something slow and gentle, taking his time to lick at Aaron’s lower lip, before sliding past the entrance.

As they continue to kiss, Robert slowly lowers himself onto him, the warmth of his chest seeping into Aaron’s bare skin, the weight of his shaft now solidly against his own. It’s enough to have him grinding against him.

“Better?” Robert whispers, pulling away eventually, but his breath still warm on Aaron’s lips, his arms on either side of his head as he brackets him.

Aaron can’t speak, all his blood now in his cock, so he just leans up and kisses him.

Robert breaks away and starts sliding _down_ his body, trailing kisses all the way down Aaron’s jaw and then his neck, pausing right where it meets the shoulder. He licks a strip across it, then gives it a kiss. Aaron’s breath hitching as he feels the warm, wet tongue, give way to sharp nipping teeth, the rest of his body practically trembling as Robert swirls and sucks on his collarbone.

He groans his appreciation and thrusts upward once more, Robert getting the signal and making his way back downwards.

Once he gets to the waistband of Aaron’s jeans, he places a kiss right over the button, his nose and wet mouth pressing against the trail of dark hairs that lead down to his denim-bound erection, Robert’s chin ghosting over the aching, straining bulge.

Aaron attempts to thrust up at him, but Robert already has him pinned with his own thighs, his hands reaching down to unbutton him.

His system floods with relief, the intense tightness on his shaft now alleviated. He’s surprised he doesn’t come right then and there. Instead, he lifts his hips so Robert can pull his jeans down further, allowing his dick to finally spring free.

He gasps in relief, the cool air instantly surrounding it; his swollen head bobbing in the air, the tip of it already shiny with precome.

He opens his eyes again to find Robert just kneeling there and staring, clearly thrown by Aaron’s lack of underwear.

Robert raises an eyebrow as he looks up at him, “Someone came prepared.”

Aaron thinks of earlier, when he’d stood in an office bathroom, disposing of his come-stained boxers.

But he holds his tongue, demanding instead, too desperate to really care about banter.

“Do you want to?” He asks, looking down between his legs, “Or should I just go ahead and get started.

Robert grins and gets off Aaron’s thighs, coming to kneel at the base of his own bed.

Before Aaron can say something, he’s already ducking his head down, only instead of taking Aaron’s cock in his mouth as he’d expected, Robert places a kiss on his upper thigh.

“ _Robert._ ” Aaron hisses, through gritted teeth, grabbing at the comforter to stop himself from taking hold of himself, wanting nothing more than to wrap his hand around his own dick.

“Told you,” Robert murmurs as he moves to the other side, giving Aaron a same nip in the parallel spot; sharp teeth grazing a sensitive location, the sensation setting his poor nerves on fire. “Right now, it’s my turn.”

He blows on Aaron’s balls, the warm breath making him even harder, a litany of swears starting to tumble forth from his mouth. Before he can even start to comprehend what’s happening, he feels the warmth of Robert’s mouth wrap around his swollen head, pulling out groans of satisfaction from him as he lowers himself down onto it. Aaron nearly goes cross-eyed, as Robert presses his tongue flat against his shaft, dragging it up and down with him as he starts to bob.

Soon enough, he brings one hand to Aaron’s base, stroking and twisting his wrist as he does so, each stroke in time with the movement of his mouth. With a swirling and sucking of his tongue, Robert brings Aaron right up to the edge, but then he stops with _pop_ before he can fall over.

They break away and Robert leans over to his bedside table, returning quickly with his own bottle of lube and a condom.

Aaron watches intently, bottom lip between his teeth as Robert crawls his way back off the bed and spreads Aaron’s legs even wider as he kneels on the floor between them.

Aaron leans back, tense with anticipation, awaiting Robert’s mouth back on his dick. Only instead, he feels fingers under his thighs, lifting them and placing them on a pair of shoulders. Before he can react, Robert kisses below his balls, a light peck, just to get them started, his nose rubbing right against them.

He tries to thrust, chasing that unexpected pleasure, but Robert holds his thighs steady.

He’s still recovering, when he feels something swipe at his hole, Robert’s warm, wet tongue licking its way from the perineum all the way to the middle of his bum crack. Aaron lets out a shuddering gasp, unprepared for such an assault on his senses.

He’s barely caught his breath when Robert lightly blows on it, before coming in and kissing at it gently. Aaron’s bucking, rolling his hips, his toes curling from the pleasure.

Then without any warning, Robert places his tongue flat against the hole licking it once before hardening his tongue and attempting to push inside it; eager, inquisitive, wanting.

As Robert’s tongue probes at his tight ring of muscle, Aaron forced himself to relax, to loosen up and give himself up to the pleasure.

He feels two lubed up fingers make their way in, parting him and making him groan, every last bit of his body’s resistance giving in.

Aaron shuts his eyes as they continue to side and stretch, his hips starting to roll, as he does his best to bear on it; doing his best so something hits his prostate.

It’s all he can think about, all he can feel. The idea of Robert Sugden sliding inside him, prodding and poking and licking and lapping, while his dick continues to leak. His hand coming down to massage his own head, his own fingers now slick with his own precome.

He lays there gasping and writhing as Robert keeps working. Until he just suddenly… stops.

Aaron curses loud, unsure what he might have even said, just aware that he needs Robert inside him.

But Robert’s got other plans, as he rises back up, coming to kiss him again. His body sliding against the front of Aaron’s, his smooth chest now against Aaron’s hairier one, his leaking cock against Robert’s underwear.

He cups at Robert’s penis, tracing it through the fabric, the thought of the white lettering around the waistband turning him on further.

Robert goes to remove it, but Aaron gasps, “No,” his fingers holding the edges in place.

They stop kissing, Robert looking down at him in askance, concern etched across his face. Aaron smiles, partly to reassure him, partly because his fingers are already skimming the edge of the dark fabric, tracing the white stitching of the letters with his tips, even the high-class embroidery leaving some bumps.

_Calvin Klein._

“Leave it on,” he tells him, his mind already back at the photo shoot, watching Robert’s hips slide about on that bed.

Robert nods, and lifts his hips so Aaron can remove and lower it, the still-snug waistband keeping them wrapped around his upper thighs.

Satisfied with this decision, Aaron starts stroking at Robert’s dick, as he starts to push back into his cupped hand.

His mind still focused on purple sheets, messed up hair, and a dangerously seductive smile, Aaron rolls them over, so now he’s atop Robert, knees straddling both sides of his hips and his thick shaft still in his hand.

They lock eyes, and he smiles down at Robert, his fantasy already half a reality, as he’s met with half-lidded eyes and a long stretched out groan, when he gives his wrist a bit of a twist.

“Condom…” Robert whispers when he catches his breath. Aaron grabs it and puts it on Robert himself, lowering the latex over his leaking erection, before rubbing at its head with his palm.

This time when their gazes meet, Robert looks at him in confirmation, Aaron nods and focuses on his prize.

Bringing himself forward, he slides onto Robert with one fluid motion, feeling the walls of him tighten and stretch, and letting out a groan of satisfaction as Robert's cock hits that special spot.

Robert starts thrusting upward, but it’s not enough, his pace still too slow and gentle.

Aaron can’t help but think of that photo shoot earlier, of that stuck out chin and smile — and how much he’d wanted to fuck _that_ guy into oblivion.

So he starts to ride Robert at a quicker pace, one hand on himself, rapidly fisting, the other scrunched up behind him in Robert’s underwear; the soft and damp fabric anchoring him as more images of the photoshoot play in his mind.

It’s not long before he’s on the brink of his climax, the feeling clenching and uncoiling deep in his belly. He opens his eyes, looking down at Robert and finds him with his eyes closed and his neck tipped back, the breath rushing in and out of him as he keeps on panting, gently whispering his name.

All he can think, when he orgasm finally hits, and Robert’s gasped cries fill his ears, is, _That’s just the way you make me feel._

:::::  
 

It’s as they’re laying in bed — now all cleaned off, but still naked and sexually sated — that Robert finally brings it up, propping his head up with one hand as he lays on his side.

“So. Tell me the real reason,” he prods, a loose smile on his lips. “The missing underwear. It wasn’t just for me, was it?”

Aaron doesn’t bite back a smile, lets it unfurl nice and wide as he turns to look him in the eye.

“You might have had something to do with it,” he teases, trying to keep a straight face. But it just devolves into a wicked smirk as he doesn’t bother to elaborate.

“Well, go on,” Robert demands, now actually poking at his side, unknowingly hitting him right where he’s ticklish.

He flinches away and lets out a chuckle, doing his best to avoid Robert’s roving hand, now that he’s armed with this new discovery.

“During the photo shoot,” he wheezes, as he tries to stay clear of Robert’s fingers. “I might have gotten a bit excited.”

The second he says that Robert goes still, his hand freezing in mid-air, his eyes going dark. “And you’re only telling me this now?”

“Could hardly tell ya in the middle, could I?” Aaron counters, as if it should have occurred to Robert. “You were kind of busy at the time.”

Robert’s hand continues to stretch out, only instead of tickling Aaron, it lands on his hip, gently pulling him back towards him.

Sure he won’t get tickled, Aaron scoots his way back to him, now laying face to face with him, as Robert’s hand slowly slides over to his bum, stopping to gently rest on it.

“You’re lucky I like you,” Robert murmurs as he looks down at him, his gaze slowly searching his eyes. 

“I don’t know,” Aaron replies, pretending like he’s thinking. “Sounds like _you’re_ the lucky one.”

Robert keeps smiling, but now with a look of mild disbelief on his face, like he really can’t believe his luck.

“Reckon I am,” he says earnestly, in that way that always takes Aaron by surprise, a weight in his heart settling.

He smiles back, touched by the sentiment, as a blush blooms fresh on his cheeks.

He stares back at Robert, memorising his every detail; his eyes, his freckles, his smile.

Shaking his head, he leans forward for a kiss, closing his eyes as he gently teases, “Idiot.”  
  


:::::  
 

He wakes up next morning with a warm weight against his back and an arm slung across his waist.

He moves to roll over, his limbs loose and sated, the mattress below him dipping as he settles back down, eyes opening to the sight of Robert’s face, as highlighted by the faint sunlight streaming in through the curtains, turning straw-gold hair nearly flaxen.

Aaron lays there for a minute taking it all in; alert eyes now closed in slumber, jaw loose, mouth open, and tongue kind of lolling to the side. A perfect moment of unguarded vulnerability, one free from Robert’s cocky smile.

It makes him want to kiss him, but he holds back, not wanting to wake him; not wanting to disturb this particular tableau.

So he just lays there, admiring this vision, his eyes slowly starting to close, as he drifts back to sleep…

There’s a thought that niggles, right as he slips over the edge, fluttering away before he can really examine it.

It makes him smile though, as he burrows in deeper.

_I’m dating Robert Sugden._


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert and Aaron keep a secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended Listening: 'Dark Necessities' by the Red Hot Chilli Peppers

**CHAPTER SIX  
**

TWO DAYS LATER…

:::::

   
He’s just gotten out of the shower and slipped on a clean purple t-shirt when the first text comes in. He smiles to himself without even needing to check, already knowing that it’s from Robert. 

Sliding one arm in his hoodie, he unlocks his phone and taps on the notification, only to be graced with a fresh selfie of a still-in-bed and shirtless Robert; the angle taken from above. His hair is lighter against his dark blue sheets, the soft morning light enhancing his slowly fading tan, which only emphasises his freckles. But that’s nothing compared to the smile on his face, the one no doubt put there by Aaron (as well as a whole weekend spent practically in bed, ensconced in a private bubble of their own making). 

His smile grows wider as he thinks of Robert’s face after they’d woken up that next day, surprised and relieved to find Aaron still beside him.

“Thought you’d for sure do a runner,” he’d said, his voice still laced with sleep, even if his green eyes had glittered with alertness.

“Almost did one,” he’d admitted, slightly more awake, having taken those precious few seconds before to just watch him. “But then I remembered I like ya.”

Robert had smiled and kissed him after that, one of those sweet morning greetings Aaron had never felt like initiating. But somehow with Robert, it had felt natural.

His phone vibrates in his hand, snapping him back to the present, Aaron unlocks it and reads the new message.

 **ROBERT  
** Wish it were tonight already. :(

 **AARON  
** I’m seein’ ya in an hour.

 **ROBERT  
** You’re forgetting one important fact: You won’t be naked then.

  **ROBERT  
** Unless that’s what you’re offering…

 **AARON  
** I’m not going to work naked.

 **ROBERT  
** Spoilsport.

 **AARON  
** And who says I’m going to be naked later anyway? I’m not even naked now.

 **ROBERT  
** I am. ;)  
 

The next message that arrives is a photo of Robert’s lower half, his bare legs all stretched out over the dark blue sheets, only a thin layer covering his crotch, serving to make one thing evident: It’s tenting at the front.

Aaron bites his lip at Robert’s clear erection, very much wishing he was actually there. (A new thing he’s discovered over the course of the last 48 hours, is that his personal interest in Robert’s cock is seemingly boundless.)

 

 **AARON  
** What do you want ME to do about that? 

 **ROBERT  
** Thought you could maybe give me a hand? ;)

 **AARON  
** You’ve got two. Choose one and use it.

  **ROBERT  
** -_-

  **ROBERT  
** You know, it wouldn’t kill you to sext me back. Can’t be the only one making an effort in this relationship.

Aaron pauses, reads that last word again, it rattling inside him like a coin, until it too eventually settles.  
 

 **AARON  
** So… This is a relationship then?

Robert responds immediately.

 **ROBERT  
** Why? Do you not want to be my boyfriend?

He thinks about it for a second, a smile spreading on his lips when he realises that yes, he very much does. So he lets Robert know the only way he knows how.

 **AARON  
** Not if I have to go to work naked. 

 

He grins at that one, proud of himself. But when he doesn’t hear back from Robert immediately he starts to worry he wasn’t clear enough.

But that fades away when it eventually buzzes, his answer putting a smile on his face.

 

 **ROBERT  
** Fair enough, I guess. Might as well leave SOMETHING to the imagination…

 **ROBERT  
** So. Go on then. What are you wearing? 

 **AARON  
** Use that imagination. I’ve got to go to work.

 

Chuckling to himself, he puts his phone in his pocket, shutting the door behind him as he leaves.

:::::  
 

He spots Tracy at the back of the coffee line, standing there scrolling on her phone. He’s about to ignore her and keep walking by, when he sees the frown on her face and comes to a stop, kicking himself as he sighs.

He knows full well he can’t leave her now that he’s seen her like this, a result of his guilt already having been triggered.

_Plus, what if it’s about Robert?_

Now presented with a second, possibly more pressing reason, he doesn’t waver any longer.

“Morning,” he says as he walks up to her, giving her his best attempt at a friendly nod. Tracy eyes him almost suspiciously.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” She asks, her brow furrowing as she studies his face.

Almost instantly, Aaron feels a pang of regret, almost certain she might smell Robert on him — despite having gone home and showered in his own flat this morning.

“Nothing,” he shrugs, trying to act nonchalant, and not like he has a new, secret relationship to hide; the weight of the phone in his pocket already burning. “Just trying this new thing. Heard it’s called ‘friendship.’ You might have heard of it?”

Tracy rolls her eyes at him, but she still cracks a reluctant smile.

“So, go on then,” Aaron prods, finding he actually cares about the answer to his next question. “What’s eating you up?”

“It’s this Robert thing,” Tracy sighs as they take a step forward in line. “He said yes to going on a date with Finn on _Friday_ , but he hasn’t heard anything from him in two days!”

Aaron feels his cheeks heat up, but he’s not sure what to say; not wanting to blatantly lie, but not really wanting to share the truth either.

“It’s the weekend. He was probably busy,” he points out. He then clears his throat, before carefully asking, “Didn’t you say he was probably seein’ someone?”

“Yeah, but then why didn’t he just say so?” Tracy questions, getting a little more incensed. “ _He_ was the one that said yes to Finn!”

“Maybe he met someone else over the weekend,” Aaron shrugs in an effort to be helpful, even though his mind is filled with memories of both of them in Robert’s bed; legs wrapped around each other, sheets all askew, both of them eagerly panting. 

“Yeah. But I’m sure I’d at least get a tip if that were the case,” Tracy counters, shaking her head at his suggestion.

“You get tips?” He asks, brows lifting in surprise. “About stuff like that?”

“Oh yeah, all the time,” Tracy answers, taking another step forward. She turns to face him. “My inbox is full of stuff like that. Footballers, comedians, _Big Brother_ contestants… Anyone famous really. Can’t be a professional gossip columnist without at least a few good sources.”

“And Robert’s really that famous?” Aaron asks, his heart rate starting to speed up.

“Everyone has their fans,” Tracy says. “Someone once tried to leave me a tip about what the girl who played the sun in _Teletubbies_ is up to now. Like I care.”

Aaron makes a face, the information a little too strange and specific, and yet, oddly titillating. “What _is_ she up to now?”

“Think she’s at uni or somethin', didn’t really read the rest of it,” Tracy tells him, shaking her head. “But see that’s what I mean. There’s always someone out there who cares.”

She thinks for a second, and then she adds, “Besides, Robert’s hardly private. He’s always postin’ on social media and stuff. Don’t think he’s capable of keeping _anything_ a secret.”

Aaron bites his tongue, thinking back to Saturday morning, when he’d pretty much insisted on keeping the change in their relationship just between them, interrupting Robert’s attempt to take one of his regular in-bed selfies.

He’d stared at Aaron for a while after he’d requested it, citing a desire to see where this “thing” between them was going. But then Robert nodded, acquiescing to his request, saying, “Alright, since this really matters to you.”

He smiles at the memory before he’s brought back to the present, when he realises it’s his turn to order.

He pays for his coffee and then joins Tracy by the sugar, where she tells him, “Read you guys’ article by the way. Nice job on that one! Some of those songs are dead sexy.”

“Uh, thanks,” Aaron says, giving her a grateful nod as he pours some milk into his drink. “But it was a team effort.”

He thinks of Robert’s mouth between his thighs, and nods, _Yep. Definitely a team effort._

“Mmm… Yeah,” she says as she swallows her sip. “I didn’t even know Robert could write that well. But he’s actually quite good. Guess he takes after his dad after all, eh? Minus all the sex.”

He tries not to smile _too_ hard at that remark, having made a similar one on Saturday afternoon, when the list had first gone live online.

They’d both been sat on Robert’s couch, lounging as they waited for their takeaway to arrive. Robert had demurred and brushed off his praise at the time, but Aaron had still felt extremely proud — especially having known the emotional state he’d been in when he’d had to write the piece, his own personal emotional flip-flopping probably having made things much, much harder on both of them at that point.

“Guess he does,” Aaron agrees, thinking of Robert as he yet again bites back a smile.

“And that’s why I don’t get it!” Tracy says, gesturing wildly as she gets incensed again. “How can such a good writer, be such an infuriating bloke?”

Aaron’s cheeks heat up, but he doesn’t want to lie. So he just settles for shaking his head in agreement.

:::::  
 

They head upstairs in companionable silence, both of them kind of lost in their own thoughts, watching the numbers on the elevator display change.

Suddenly Aaron’s hit by the stirs of an inkling, a question he needs to have answered, “Did you always want to be a gossip columnist?”

“No,” Tracy says shaking her head. “Didn’t know what I wanted to be. But I sort of just fell into it.”

She thinks for a minute, before then adding, “But it’s nice knowing people trust me enough to tell me things. That’s why I try to be careful about what I print. Can’t just run any old thing. Could be made up or lies.”

Aaron nods as he thinks about what she said, “Never really thought about all this like that.”

“Well,” Tracy says giving it some thought. “It’s a nice way to keep a lot of famous people honest.”

“But doesn’t that make people extra careful?” He follows up as casually as he can, the thought of Robert’s social media use on his mind.

“Sometimes,” Tracy agrees, taking a sip of her drink. “But I always think, whatever it is you’re hiding better be worth sneakin’ around for. Otherwise, what’s the point? Why not just do it out in the open?”

She takes another sip and then chuckles to herself. “You know, I don’t think we’ve ever had a proper conversation. At least one where you’re not completely rude.”

“That’s just because you’re always goin’ about gossip stuff,” Aaron retorts deciding to be at least a tiny bit honest with her.

“You mean my job?” Tracy points out, her eyebrows raised.

“You don’t see me bangin’ on about music all the time,” he responds with a well-worn shrug.

“Fair enough,” she concedes, turning to face him once more. “So tell me. What’s Aaron Dingle listening to now?”

He thinks of the song he’d played them over dinner last night — cold pizza from lunch barely reheated — and smiles to himself.

“Try Rilo Kiley’s ‘Portions For Foxes,'” he suggests after giving it some thought. “You might quite like them.”

“Thanks,” Tracy nods, giving him a smile. “I’ll check it out.”

Their floor arrives and the elevator door opens, Tracy turns and looks back at him as she leaves. “You know, you should really try smiling more. It suits ya.”

Aaron follows her out, but then just remains standing in place, his eyes caught on his own reflection on the elevator door; his dark jeans and black hoodie completing what Robert had jokingly called his “vampire goth” look just the night before.

He’s not sure what she’d seen in his face, it looks the same as ever.

Just then he gets another text on his phone and he grins at the vibration, not even having to guess the number.

:::::  
 

When he returns to his desk, he’s surprised to find Robert already waiting for him, a cocky smile on display and both feet on the table, as he leans back in his chair and types on his phone, none of his work getting done.

However today, unlike every day of their working together thus far, Aaron stops in his tracks, free to drink his fill without the worry of Robert ever noticing because now he has nothing to hide.

He starts with the hair, all blonde and coiffed up like he usually wears it to work — a far cry from the flatter flop he’d seen in the comfort of his flat this last weekend, Robert not really bothering with the effort. He follows it down to the line of his jaw, now armed with the knowledge that despite his smooth face, Robert can grow the faintest of stubble, his fingers having traced it last morning. 

He bites his lip as he continues down further, his gaze sliding off his neck and onto his chest, where he’s greeted by Robert’s choice of a well-fitting shirt; tight across his pecs and biceps, the sleeves already folded up to his elbows, where a hint of brown elbow patch sticks out. He lingers a little longer when he gets to Robert’s narrow waist, his eyes pulling across the length of his legs, admiring the thigh-hugging tightness of his usual indigo jeans.

After what feels like an age of slow admiration, he returns to Robert’s face, only to find him gazing back at him. His smile is wide, pleased at the attention, his eyes a little green with hunger.

Aaron watches as he leans forward and places his phone on top of his desk, no need for it now that he’s here.

“No coffee for me, then?” Robert asks slowly, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he nods at the to-go cup in Aaron’s hand.

Aaron keeps walking, approaching their workspace, stopping when he’s stood at his desk.

He swallows blankly, his mouth running dry at the sight of Robert’s flexed muscles, the cotton of the shirt stretching tight against them. But he keeps walking, approaching their workspace, and then stopping at his own desk. “If you’d actually gotten here early, as I'd said. I would have gotten you some.”

_Or we could have gotten some together._

Robert looks at him lazily, eyes sweeping him from top to bottom as he gives him one of his smug little smiles, “Couldn’t get out of bed this morning. My hands were a little… busy.”

Aaron bites his lip as those words hit him straight in his core, the idea of Robert coming to memories of him playing in HD in his mind. It’s almost a struggle for him to steady his breath, as he shoots back, he eyes Robert carefully “But they aren’t right now, are they.”

Robert widens his smile into a smirk, lifting both hands to examine them, and then wiggling the tips at Aaron. He practically purrs the words, “But they could be.”

His eyes drop down to Aaron’s crotch, where, as if by some force of his telepathic command, Aaron feels his cock twitch in response.

Trying to steady his breath so as to believe his growing arousal at Robert’s words, Aaron swallows roughly and asks, “Don’t you have a column to write today? Or you not plannin’ on doin’ your job?” 

“Sex kind of is my job,” Robert points out, enunciating each word carefully, as he rests his hands on his thighs. “So us having it would be very valuable research…”

Aaron glances around the office and the lowers his voice, dropping his tone a little lower. “What do you call the last three nights then?”

Luckily it seems, no one’s paying attention to them, but that only seems to make Robert bolder.

Because he doesn’t move forward, or try and strain to hear, he just sits there, looks Aaron straight in the eye, and utters the word, “Foreplay.”

Aaron’s mouth gets impossibly dryer, his dick slightly hardening, but he still manages to retain control of his breathing — but even that, just barely. He sees Robert watching him in anticipation of his response, his eyes flicking down to his lips.

So he seizes the moment and licks them nice and slow, bringing his coffee cup up to his mouth. Knowing Robert’s still eyeing him, he tips his head back as he takes a long, slow sip, letting the liquid flow down his throat.

He can feel Robert’s gaze on every inch of him, so he makes sure he takes his time. When he’s had enough, he brings his head back to neutral, releasing the edge of his drink with a _smack_ , followed by a very satisfied sigh.

He turns to look at Robert, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve but finds him sitting there, with his mouth now open, his previously sea green eyes having gone dark.

Aaron places his almost-empty cup now back down on his desk, before looking back up to meet Robert’s gaze. He slowly leans over the divider that separates them, the closing distance allowing him to see Robert’s bottom lip quiver, as his eyes once again drop down to Aaron’s lips.

When his eyes come back up to meet Aaron’s gaze, he clears his throat, telling Robert in a low almost-growl, “Sounds like you need to talk to your boyfriend.”

Robert opens his mouth to answer, but in his effort to adjust his seat — or maybe to just re-cross his heels on the desk — he slips and both his legs fall off the desk; throwing him off his balance, as he moves to grip both the handles of his seat.

He looks up at Aaron, panting with shock from the surprise, but he doesn’t lift a finger or even offer to help at all. He just stands there smirking and sipping his coffee.

“Well then,’ he says once Robert’s gathered himself and sat back in his chair. “Guess I better get back to work. Let me know if you need anything.”

:::::  
 

He’s just wrapping up his second album review for a new band when a shadow falls across his desk. He doesn’t look up, knowing who it is, even when his large hand picks up a stack of CDs, and replaces them with his denim covered bum; the line of his hip, just inches from where Aaron's sat.

He glances at him from the corner of his eye, sees Robert smile softly at the pile in his hands, not sure if he’s actually pretending to examine them.

“What do you want?” Aaron asks, trying to keep his focus on the laptop screen in front of him, but all he can think of is how good Robert smells, the faint traces of tea tree mixed in with sandalwood.

“What do you mean?” Robert asks, before saying just above a whisper, “Can’t a man pay a visit to his boyfriend?”

Aaron feels his cheeks heat up at that, a low thrill running up his spine. It’s been a long time since anyone’s called him that out loud, and he didn’t realise how much a part of him had missed it.

“Sure he can,” he carefully replies, attempting to type another word. “Just not when he’s got work to do.”

That seems to still Robert, who he’s now watching at the corner of his eye, he seems to actually be reading Aaron’s scribbled note on that first CD. His cheeks grow even warmer for a different reason — those being his roughest first draft ramblings, the ones he shows to no one.

But Robert doesn’t say anything, just asks, “So you never really thought about it?” as he carefully places the finished CD on a small bit of free space next to him, the edge of the plastic close to the curve of his bum.

“Thought about what?” Aaron asks, now looking back at his screen, hitting ENTER and starting another line.

Robert’s voice is still low, now with an added husk, as his thumb strokes across the plastic cover of the next CD. “You know… A quickie at the office.”

Aaron’s hand slips, causing a typo, he has to go back and delete it. “No. Like I said. I don’t really date people I work with.”

_At least I didn’t use to._

There’s a bit of a pause, and then the second CD’s laid down on top of the one before it, as Robert gleefully says, “So you’re telling me I’m your first.”

Aaron can’t contain his eye roll at that, but it’s a struggle to get back to typing.

“Don’t you have a column due this week?” He asks, shifting in his seat, trying to steer them back to safer, more PG-rated pastures.

But Robert’s clearly not interested in that, because he just sighs, “Yeah. But writing is hard work…”

And then, even lower than Aaron had thought possible, “... and winding you up is way more fun.”

Aaron sighs, tries to hold on to a word he’d meant, but he still manages to verbally suggest, “Then just pretend you’re writin’ to me.”

“Can’t,” Robert dismisses it. Another CD joins the stack. “There wouldn’t be a word safe to print.”

Aaron’s cheeks now feel like they’re on fire, his mouth an arid desert.

“Then try and remember why you became a writer in the first place,” he croaks, hoping the allusion to his mum will help.

But because Robert clearly has a one-track mind, he just shrugs and says, “Won’t work. I’ve already met another fit writer.”

Aaron actually turns to look up at him. Robert’s having now run out of CDs, having placed them all behind him. His hands are clasped in his lap

“You think you’re fit?” Aaron asks, raising an eyebrow, unwilling to give Robert even an inch.

“You don’t?” Robert questions, like it’s even a possibility, his eyes now blue and twinkling.

Aaron just looks back at the screen and shrugs, “Pretty sure I’ve seen better.”

He can feel Robert’s flash of jealousy emanate right through him, can hear his sharp intake of breath as he’s about to ask, _Who?_

But that never comes. Just the sound of someone clearing their throat. When he looks up, he sees Robert looking a few feet away, where Finn Barton is standing, looking somehow even more nervous than he had on Friday; almost like he’d swallowed a golf ball and is now rendered unable to breathe.

“Hey, Robert,” he says his voice still a nervous flutter, even as he attempts a joke, “Fancy meeting you here.”

And then a few seconds later, he follows it up with a much less enthusiastic, “Oh, hi, Aaron.”

He laughs nervously and Aaron looks away, unable to watch what is sure to be another car crash in action. Though beside him he can see Robert kind of tense, his left hand now gripping the side of the edge of the table as if to steady him.

He pretends to be working, but he’s just typing gibberish, his ears still eager and listening.

“How can I help you, Finn?” Robert sighs in response, sounding a little annoyed at their being interrupted — or possibly at the thought of Aaron finding anyone else fitter.

This seems to throw Finn for a loop, and his nerves steadily worsen.

“O-Our date. On Friday?” He manages, after a few false starts. “You never texted. So I was worried I might have given you the wrong number.”

They all know that isn’t true, the words hanging in the air like an awkward elephant in the room, growing wider with each ticking second.

“Sorry about that,” Robert finally responds, but it doesn’t sound all too apologetic. He must know that because he adds, “I got kind of busy.”

 _Busy getting fucked by me_ , Aaron thinks, but he just bites his tongue.

Beside him, Robert is shifting, hand coming to rest on the edge of his desk, just a few centimetres from Aaron’s own hand.

“Oh,” Finn responds, sounding incrementally sadder. But much to Aaron’s surprise yet again, he still doesn’t give up. “Are you busy now? Because we could totally go out for lunch.”

A beat passes and then he adds somewhat nervously, “Unless you managed to meet someone else this weekend.”

Aaron wants to blurt out that it’s absolutely true, and that worse still, Robert already has a boyfriend. Next to him on the desk, Robert’s knuckles are white, clearly resisting the urge to say something.

Appreciating his silence, and knowing it’s because of his wishes, Aaron lets his hand drift down the edge the desk, until his pinky finger is resting flush against Robert’s. He waits a second and then reaches over and gives his a slow press, almost as if to say, _It’s okay, you can lie._

It seems Robert hears him because he just shakes his head and lets out a slightly strangled, “No. No one else.”

Aaron pressed down once again. _Thanks_.

“Great!” Finn explains, sounding a lot brighter. “So does that mean you’re free for lunch?”

This time it’s Robert, who presses the tip of his finger against the side of Aaron’s, as if asking him, _What do you want me to do?_

Aaron swallows, not liking the answer, but what other option do they have?

To say no would make Tracy suspicious, and increase her scrutiny of Robert. To say yes, would mean he’d have to watch his newly minted boyfriend go off on a date with someone else.

As much as he hates the idea of both options, he knows what he has to do. He reaches across and presses Robert’s finger, giving him a silent, _All clear_.

Robert nods slowly, though his jaw kind of clenches, “It would appear that I am.”

“Perfect!” Finn exclaims in sheer exclamation. “Don’t worry! You’re going to _love_ this place. It’s actually right near here.”

“Just go ahead without me,” Robert replies. “I’ll catch up with you in a minute. Aaron and I have a few more things to discuss about our next assignment.”

Aaron looks up at the mention of his name, barely remembering to nod when he hears Robert’s lie.

Finn buys his excuse, too giddy with excitement, as he excitedly tells Robert, “I’ll be by the elevators!”

With that, he takes off, almost scurrying away, but Aaron’s thoughts are already back on Robert, the stressed heat of him radiating across the short distance between them.

“You okay with this?” Robert asks quietly, nodding his head back in the direction that Finn’s gone in.

“Have to be, don’t I?” Aaron says, as apologetically as he can.

_I’m not ready for people to know about us._

But Robert just nods, clearly respecting his wishes. He gives it a second’s thought, then offers up, “I could cancel.”

“No. Go,” Aaron tells him. “It’ll help keep Tracy off our backs.”

“Tracy?” Robert asks, trying to remember who she is. When he does he asks, “What’s she got to do with this?”

“I’ll tell ya later,” Aaron tells him shaking his head. “Now you go have fun on ya date. And try not to think too much about your boyfriend.”

As he’d planned that seems to perk Robert up, restore him back to his cocky self. But instead of a joke about jealousy or fitness, he softens and whispers, “I’d rather be here with you.”

They gaze into each other’s eyes, and Aaron bites his lip, truly regretting his own rule because now they can’t kiss. 

But Robert seems to be a step ahead of him, because he slides his hand and presses his finger onto Aaron’s, a slow and soft gesture of goodbye.

Then it’s gone as soon as it came, and Robert’s getting up and preparing to go meet Finn.

“How do I look?” He asks turning towards Aaron, his chest and waist just a little see-through in this shirt.

Aaron knows he’s doing this mostly for _his_ benefit, so he does his best to pretend he doesn’t care. But then he meets Robert’s eyes again and says with a small smile, “Like you have a pretty fit boyfriend.”

Robert grins at him before he turns to leave, “Yeah. Too bad he doesn’t work naked.”

:::::  
 

He tries not to think about Robert on a date with another man — even if the other man is a) Finn Barton and b) doesn’t stand a chance.

He supposes it’s mostly the principle of the thing, that instead of having lunch with Robert to celebrate their new titles as he’d had the idea of doing, they’ll have to wait till tonight to do so because he’s out on a date with someone else.

 _Well, what did you expect?_ Aaron asks himself, as he grumbles and aimlessly scrolls online. Keeping this whole thing secret had been his idea in the first place — a decision he now has to live with the consequences of.

But even then, with this one terrible flaw in his plan, Aaron finds that he’s quite happy with this decision. Because to keep them secret is to give them more of a chance. (Even if his reasoning was a way of avoiding past mistakes.)

He’d realised this after his chat with Tracy on Thursday, when he’d found himself thinking he didn’t want the scrutiny that comes with being Robert Sugden and the possibility of people not only speculating about their relationship, but also whether he’ll become another notch on Robert’s already well-known belt; another face in a hastily conducted Google search.

But part of it is that he doesn’t like the idea of having to come out professionally, the gesture of it never having appealed to him in all his years of writing. He’s worked hard to become known as “Aaron Dingle, music expert,” and he can’t stand the thought of being reduced to just “that gay music writer,” the way he’s seen happen to some colleagues in the past.

He’d tried to explain this to Robert during that initial Saturday morning conversation, but he wasn’t entirely sure it had sunk in. Partly because he’d been preoccupied with other things (namely Robert’s lips kissing their way down his chest) and partly because Robert’s never had anything _but_ a public professional persona, every aspect of his life on display — from excerpts of his childhood in parts of his father’s books, to his entire recent career literally writing about sex.

_Or as he’d probably call it, ‘Research.’_

Aaron chuckles to himself as he remembers Robert’s face when he’d said that, the look on his face completely smug.

There’s a sort of ache in his chest, and he wishes he could kiss him right now. That feeling more than anything making him waver; makes him think about them possibly going public.

But he knows it’s just the initial high of the relationship, this brief honeymoon period where he can’t resist wanting the rest of the world to know. The words, ‘Robert Sugden + Kiss’ keep playing in his mind, and he goes back to being confident in his decision.

Because he’d only just managed to avoid it last time, missed having to deal with the adverse effects of fame, by a little more than a month. 

He’s busy ruminating when Adam interrupts, staring at him in amusement.

“You alright mate?” He asks, a big smile on his face. “You just sittin’ here and starin’ into space.”

Aaron rolls his eyes, even if his face feels like it’s turning pink.

“Yeah. It’s called ‘thinking,’” he fires back, a smile now on his face. “You might want to try it sometime.”

“Very funny,” Adam brushes him off. “I came to see if you wanted to grab lunch. Haven’t talked to you in a while.”

Aaron can feel himself blush, as he thinks back to Robert, but Adam doesn’t notice, already speeding along to say, “Been so busy with Vic.”

He notes the way Adam shortens her name, the way he lights up when he says it.

“Oh that’s great,” he says absentmindedly, wondering if Robert already knows. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks, man.” Adam beam at him absolutely proud of himself. “Now where do you want to go? I’m buyin’.”

Aaron raises his eyebrows as he gets to his feet.

_Guess he really likes her._

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, not having an opinion, his mind already wondering what Robert might be eating. “What were you thinking?”

“How about _Sandbar_?” Adam pitches enthusiastically, rubbing his hands together gleefully. “It’s just a couple of blocks from here. Been thinkin’ about it ever since I heard Finn and Tracy talk about it earlier.”

That catches Aaron’s attention but he tries not to act too eager, not wanting to tip Adam off by accident — not that he’d notice it seems, too busy going on about the quality of their burgers, and whether _that_ would be classified as a sandwich. 

Aaron matches his smile and gives him a nod, his thoughts already focused on Robert and Finn.

He thinks of Robert’s last few words as he’d left, _I’d rather be here with you._

Well if they can’t be together here, he might as well go there. Make it a little easier on both of them.

He follows Adam as they head to the elevators. He can’t wait to see the look on Robert’s face.

:::::  
 

As he’d told Adam on their way over, the cafe isn’t all that busy, attracting most of its music-minded customers at night when they have live music playing on the small stage at the back of the room. The walls are covered in faux red brick print wallpaper and decorated with all kinds of rock ‘n’ roll memorabilia; mostly just an assortment of framed photos, posters, and occasionally a guitar or a t-shirt. Aaron reminds himself to tell Gary and Sid about this place.

There’s a song already playing on the jukebox by the door when they walk in, but the first thing Aaron notices is Robert.

He’s sitting at a small two-person booth at the back of the room, his blonde hair appearing fairer against the burnt sienna of the wallpaper of the back wall, his face currently facing the front door, the expression on it bored out of his mind. His skin looks faintly golden, his shirt even whiter.

Aaron bites back his smile at the very sight of him, letting that familiar warmth fill his chest — even if the sight of Finn’s dark hair does put a damper on it.

He’s staring at Robert when he gets an alert on his phone, and for half a second his heart flutters. But instead of Robert, it’s a text from his mother, checking to see when he might come home next.

But as he exits out of the chat, and spots Robert’s name right at the top, inspiration strikes, an idea coming into his head.

_Time to put in some effort._

With Adam still talking, he turns to the jukebox beside them, looking up some options, before finally settling on a song he likes.

Once he’s paid, and his selection is made, he walks over to the table he’d picked out upon entering: the booth exactly one booth behind Finn and Robert’s, his seat, clearly facing their table.

He knows the instant Robert spots him because he does a slight double take, his brows furrowing as he zooms in on him and Adam, as if trying to read his mind and see what he’s up to.

Overhead, Aaron’s song selection starts to kick in, the rapidly building crescendo of sped up guitar strums and piano notes, leading into the iconic bouncing bass line that defines Red Hot Chilli Peppers’ “Dark Necessities.”

Aaron smiles knowingly as he spreads his legs on his seat, denim rubbing against the cushioned leather, making himself comfortable, his face directly visible to Robert on Finn’s left.

_Perfect._

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Robert still watching him. But Aaron just keeps smiling and nodding at whatever Adam’s saying as he pretends to look down at his menu, giving thought to his plan instead. 

He waits a few seconds, biding his time, before carefully fishing out his phone. He holds it down low in his lap, so neither Adam nor Robert can see what he’s up to. He types out a message and then quickly hits SEND.

 **AARON  
** I hope that tastes as good as I did last night.  
 

 _Coming out to the light of day…_  

He looks up and meets Robert’s eyes, watches as his phone buzzes on the table in front of him and he immediately picks it up and checks it. It takes a few seconds, but Robert’s eyes widen in shock and he almost chokes on his burger; having to ease his coughing and sputtering with a long sip of water. In front of him, Finn doesn’t seem to notice the change in his date’s demeanour at all, continuing to ramble as he picks at what had appeared to be a giant salad.

 

 **ROBERT  
**???

 

 _We got many moons than a deeper place…_  

Holding his gaze and continuing to smirk, Aaron visibly texts him a response. 

 **AARON  
** Thought you said you wanted me to sext.

 

 _So I keep an eye on the shadow's smile…_  

He looks up and waits until Robert gets his text, watching as he closes his eyes when he reads it. He can practically _hear_ the shuddering breath he knows Robert lets out that, having coaxed it out of him all weekend.

 **ROBERT  
** And you choose now???

 

 **ROBERT  
** I’m supposed to be on a date!!!

 

 _To see what it has to say…_  

Aaron looks up and shrugs, not a care in the world. He knows the reason why he’s here.

 **AARON  
** Is he your boyfriend, or am I?

 _You and I both know..._   

Just as expected, the magic word works. Robert just barely able to hold back his smile. For his part, Aaron lets it spread out across his face, enjoying this more than anticipated. 

“Everything alright?” Adam interrupts, looking over from his menu.

“Yeah,” Aaron lies, turning back to his, “Just haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.”

 _Everything must go away…_  

In his lap, his phone vibrates, buzzing against the inside of his upper thigh.

 **ROBERT  
** What do I tell Finn? I can’t just keep texting you.

 **AARON  
** Not my problem.

 

And then, because he’s feeling a little bit cocky…

 **AARON  
** Use your imagination. ;)

 _Ah, what do you say?_  

He can see Robert attempting to come up with an excuse, but frankly, he can’t wait. So Aaron just goes ahead and texts him all the things he’d like to do to him.

That he’d like to do to his _boyfriend._

_Spinning off, head is on my heart..._

**AARON  
** Don’t know what’s fitter. That shirt or those jeans.

 **AARON  
** Doesn’t matter. They’ll both be on the floor later.

  
_It's like a bit of light and a touch of dark..._

He gives Robert a minute, sees him bite his bottom lip, as he looks back up him. Grinning slowly, Aaron continues… 

 **  
****AARON**  
Don’t know how Finn’s keeping his hands off you like this. I’d have you right on the table this minute.

 **ROBERT  
** What would you do to me?

_You got sneak attacked from the zodiac..._

He can practically taste the thickness in his voice, the slight shuddering gasp at the end.

 **AARON  
** For starters, get you out of that shirt. Then, count your chest freckles with my tongue.

  

Robert’s starting to look a little flushed and overheated, as he just seems to be nodding along with all of Finn’s comments, his eyes still locked with Aaron.

_But I see your eyes spark..._

**  
****AARON**  
When I’d get to your waistband, I’d strip you of those jeans. No need to cover those thighs or that arse.

   
**ROBERT  
** …

 **AARON  
** What? They’re fit. Wrap them around my head anytime.

   
**AARON  
** I’d massage your thighs, and your hips and your bum. Just moving in slow and steady circles.

 _Keep the breeze and go...  
_  

 **AARON  
** And then when you’re ready, I’d hold you down. So I can nose your cock and balls.

   
**AARON  
** If you’re wearing _Calvin_ ’s today. And I bet you are. I’d lick my way through them till you were leaking. 

   
**AARON  
** I’d suck your cock until there was nothing left.

 _Blow by blow and go away...  
_  

 **AARON  
** Then I’d put it back in just as I’d found it.

   
**ROBERT  
** Do you want me as much as I want you?

 

He’s about to type a reply, when he comes up with a better response. Instead, he’s getting up and excusing himself to go to the bathroom.

 _Oh, what do you say?_  

Locking the door behind him, he gets his phone out, before turning on the camera and angling it up high.

He gazes at himself on the phone screen, the bathroom’s low lighting, darkening his eyes and his hair and his beard. He cups at himself, a nice, thick handful through his jeans, as he lets his hoodie sleeve slide off his shoulder a bit. After a few more rubs — to release some tension — he smirks into the camera and takes the picture.

 

 

_Yeah, you don't know my mind..._

He types up a message, attaches the photo, and then taps SEND.  
 

 **AARON  
** Does this answer your question?

He returns to their table just as Adam’s preparing to order with their waitress, but he shakes his head when she looks at him expectantly.

“I’ve got to get back,” Aaron tells him quickly, can feel Robert’s eyes on him.

“Aww. Really?” Adam sounds disappointed. 

Aaron frowns and nods, “Just got this last minute assignment. 

“Ah, okay,” Adam frowns.

But then he perks up a few seconds later. “Did you know Robert and Finn were here?” 

Aaron pretends to look surprised at the news, shaking his head in response. 

_You don't know my kind..._

“Should probably go over and say hi,” he says, acting like he’s thinking. “Don’t want to come off as rude.” 

Adam grins and goes, “Ay! That’s the spirit. See! I knew I’d rub off on you eventually. I’ll see ya later yeah?”

Aaron nods and smiles and then makes his way over, locking eyes with Robert every step of the way.

He keeps on walking till he’s on Robert’s side of the table, his cock directly in his line of sight. He knows he’s seen the picture, and imagined everything Aaron could be doing. But he probably wasn’t expecting a nice thick bulge.

_Dark necessities are part of my design..._

Finn’s clearly irritated at the interruption, as Aaron smiles and says, "Fancy seeing you here."

Then he looks down at Robert's plate, at his half eaten and abandoned burger. "Adam was saying they make pretty good burgers. How does that taste?" 

He grins inwardly, can feel Robert bristle at his windup of a question, but his boyfriend still manages to nod, his eyes never leaving Aarons. 

Satisfied with his teasing, he gives Finn and Robert a nod, saying, "Well, I better get back to the office. You enjoy the rest of your lunch."

_Tell the world that I'm falling from the sky..._

He's a few steps away when the thought suddenly hits him, and he smirks, unable to resist the temptation. 

As he pushes the door open, he looks back at that table, calling out, "Oh, Robert?" 

He waits for them to make eye contact. "Might need your help with some very important research." 

And then he just leaves, Robert's stunned face burned in his mind, as the door swings shut behind him.

_Dark necessities are part of my design...  
_

:::::

 

He’s busy working on his next album review, when a shadow falls across his desk again. Only this time, unlike earlier, it’s not joined by a perky bum perched on his desk. Robert choosing to glare at him with his arms crossed above him instead.

Looking up at him, Aaron can’t help but smirk, perfectly pleased with his actions from earlier.

“Do you know how much a pair of _Calvin_ ’s cost?” Robert asks, frustration bleeding through, leaning forward to look him in the eye.

Aaron just continues to smirk, shaking his head like it doesn’t bother him in the least.

“Well then, you better start doing what I do now,” he suggests casually, turning back to his work. “Make sure you carry a spare.”

It’s the third time today, he’s had the pleasure of watching Robert’s jaw drop, and he can’t help but relish the sight of it.

The longer they gaze at each other, the more he wants to kiss him, the desire really not having faded away over the course of the day.

“Robert! Aaron! There you are! Been looking for you everywhere!” Jai says loudly, making his way over to them. “Chrissie and I were hoping you might be able to pop in for a quick meeting with the two of us in a couple of minutes. We want to discuss your next assignment.”

“Next assignment?” Aaron asks, quickly looking over at Robert. But he doesn’t seem to have any clue either.

“Oh don’t worry,” Jai reassures. “We’ll explain everything. Just come to my office in 10 minutes!”

He pauses before he leaves, and turns back to them. “I was actually trying to reach both of you earlier. You’ve got to get better about answering your phones.”

:::::  
 

It’s clear when they walk in, that Jai’s office can’t fit more than two people at once, the space mostly cluttered with boxes, save for the desk in the centre of the room and the two chairs on either side.

“Aaron! Robert! Great to see you,” Chrissie greets them, from where she’s sat in Jai’s seat, him sitting in the one right beside her. She gestures towards the chairs on the other side of the desk. “Please have a seat.”

They trade glances as they both do as she says, quickly discovering the seats are both lower and somehow closer than expected, Robert’s knee and thigh immediately pressing into his.

“Sorry about the mess,” Chrissie tells them gesturing around the room. “We’re still trying to get my office sorted, and they delivered all the furniture early. Those chairs are actually meant for mine.”

Aaron just nods politely, not sure what to say. But Robert, being himself goes with, “Interesting design. Not sure I would have gone with this colour myself.”

“You said we’re here for an assignment?” Aaron interrupts, wanting to leave as soon as possible. He shoots Robert a look that says, _When did you get into home design?_

Robert replies with one that reads, _Have you not seen what we’re sitting on?_

“Yes,” Jai says, grinning at both of them. “Chrissie and I were thinking, since your last story did quite well online, the two of you should work on another one.”

Aaron pretty much misses what she says next, as Robert’s hand comes to rest on his knee, rubbing at it firmly.

He looks over at both Chrissie and Jai, but neither of them seems to notice, Robert’s own face giving nothing away. He swallows and looks back at them, hoping he can feign some kind of attention.

And now Robert’s talking, asking some kind of question, but all Aaron can think of is how his hand is slowly sliding up his thigh, his tips grazing at the edges of his inseam.

Chrissie’s answering now, clearly pleased with whatever Robert said. Aaron just bites his lip and nods, hoping Jai doesn't look over. 

Robert starts stroking up and down his thigh, the movements long and solid. He’s got his head resting on one hand, looking like he’s listening intently.

Aaron can’t hear anything over the roar of his own pulse, it beating like a drum in his ears.

The only thing he’s aware of, as he clutches the side of the chair, is Robert’s fingers and their gently applied pressure.

And then with no notice Robert’s hand quickly drops, coming to rest against his crotch. Aaron’s breath hitches, coming out like a gasp, Jai, Chrissie and Robert all turning towards him.

His mind scrambles, trying to find any excuse, but then Robert cups him and gives him a squeeze.

Aaron’s voice comes out as hoarse as he feels, “That sounds like a great idea.”

“Oh perfect!” Chrissie grins, looking at both of them in delight. “So you’re completely up for this?”

Aaron’s eyes widen knowing he’s missed something important, so he looks over at Robert for help.

But instead of giving him any sort of aid or assistance, Robert just grins and says, “Definitely, you know, I was actually thinking of pitching giving Aaron a makeover." 

“M-Makeover?” He stutters out, clearing his throat. Doing best to ignore the pressure Robert’s applying now. The front of his pants are getting more uncomfortable by the minute and there’s really not much room to shift and alleviate it.

“Don’t worry, I won’t go _too_ far,” Robert reassures him, because of course, _of course_ , he’s found a way to be in charge of this. “Though you would look nice in some patterns.”

Before Aaron can respond, Robert gives his cock a light little  _pat_ , just as Chrissie begins wrapping up the meeting. 

“Great. I’ll start getting it set it up for this Wednesday,” Jai tells them with a smile. “And I'll email you about your expense allowance tomorrow.”

She then turns to Aaron and gives him a grateful smile, “We really appreciate you doing this Aaron. I know not a lot of people would.”

“Well, he’s not most people,” Robert grins, rightly anticipating that he still can't reply.

Aaron shoots him a glare but then he sees the look in Robert’s eyes, a twinkle of something soft, like affection. 

“Yeah, well, anything for the story,” he finally says, feeling a bit silly — even though it’s a sentiment that usually rings true.

They nod their goodbyes and take their leave, Aaron practically bolting out of the office. Behind him, he can hear Robert pause in the doorway.

“You know what, Chrissie? I’ve changed my mind about those chairs,” Robert says smugly. “They’re a lovely shade of Avocado.”  
 

:::::  
 

He lets out a deep breath as soon as they’re out of Jai’s office and beside him, Robert lets out a laugh, as if relieved they’d both made it out of there. 

“We could have been caught!” Aaron grouses, laughter bubbling out of him as he joins him in coasting on that high.

“But we didn’t, did we?” Robert tells him, giving him a cocky smile.

And just like that, Aaron feels another thrum of want shoot right through him, fueled by the desire to kiss that smile off Robert’s face.

He almost goes up to him and does just that, but then the sound of Jai and Chrissie’s laughter emanating through the door reminds him of where they are.

But that’s when it hits him, for the second time that day; an idea he’s never really considered before, but wants nothing more than to explore right now.

He walks up to Robert leaning in to murmur in his ear as he walks past, “You still up for that quickie?”

He steps back and sees Robert’s gaze darken as his green-blue eyes start to search his face.

Raring to go, and on his way to arousal, Aaron starts to back away with a cheeky grin, “Or do I have to get started without ya?”

:::::  
 

The nearest bathroom is down a long, vacant corridor, which Aaron hopes means they won’t be interrupted.

They rush into the furthest cubicle at the back, the one that appears the longest. Once inside, Aaron quickly locks the door, before he turns to face Robert.

The dark, dim lighting is reflected in his now-soft yellow hair, and the shadow-defined muscular planes of his body.

Unable to wait, Aaron grins wide, pushing Robert up against the back wall and kissing him like he’s been meaning to all day. There’s a clash of teeth amidst the slip of tongue, and eyelashes fluttering against his cheek.

When he finally pulls back, both of them panting, Robert’s gazing back at him hooded eyes and rubbed-raw lips and Aaron smiles and thinks, _yeah, this is my boyfriend_.

He thinks of his sexts earlier in the day and all the things that he’d mentally enacted. Unable to live with those ideas simply being a text-based fantasy, he decides to turn them into reality.

Breaking away from their kiss, he slides onto his knees, letting his hands sweep down the sides of Robert’s waist and hips before bringing them to rest on his thighs. Sliding his hands to the centre he pushes both legs further apart, savouring the feel of thick denim-bound muscle in his hands.

Biting his lip, he unbuttons and unzips Robert’s jeans, tugging it down by the waistband. He lets it fall to about mid-thigh, slowly stroking and massaging the outer sides of his legs. 

Licking his lips, he grabs hold of both thighs, before leaning forward and blowing on Robert’s dick, the length of it bulging through the thin black fabric.

Aaron grins as he watches it twitch and jump in front of him, before leaning forward to mouth at his hardness and letting the edges of his teeth run against it, Robert gasping in pleasure each time he skims the edge of his head.

He then moves on to nuzzling at Robert’s balls, inhaling the deep musky smell that he’s come to associate with an aroused Robert Sugden. (Another fun discovery from those last 48 hours.)

Having had his fill and straining against the front of his jeans himself, Aaron reaches up and pulls down the waistband of Robert boxer briefs, letting his thumb rub against the _Calvin Klein_ stitching and mentally thanking Robert for his consistency.

As the elastic band dips down, Robert’s cock springs free, already thick and leaking.

Aaron watches it sway in the air for a few brief seconds, licking his lips as he prepares to take it in his mouth. It’s honestly one of his favourite things about doing this with Robert; learning all the fun ways he can come undone.

As he gleefully lowers his mouth on Robert’s head, he brings his right hand to twist at Robert’s lower shaft, brushing it against his balls first. That unleashes a _hiss_ of release as Robert unconsciously attempts to thrust in his mouth, Aaron taking in as much as he can swallow.

Each increasing sigh and groan from the bob of his head up and down only adds to his own growing stiffness; the front of Aaron’s jeans already bulging tight, and his having to palm it for any relief.

It’s as he’s swirling his tongue and twisting his hand a little bit faster that Robert groans just a little bit louder. Trying to discourage the behaviour, Aaron gives him a little smack on the hip, but it only earns a louder one.

He stops what he’s doing, and Robert almost keens, trying to keep his pleasure going with a few more thrusts into Aaron’s stopped mouth. Thankfully covered by the sound of the main bathroom door opening, and then swinging shut.

They remain as they are, breathless and panting as this unnamed stranger walks over to the sinks to wash their hands. Then Aaron looks up and makes eye contact with Robert and he can tell he’s thinking the same thing, his eyes already dazed and ready.

He waits until Robert’s bitten down on the back his hand before he grips the back of his thighs and swallows as much of him as he can.

Robert’s free hand quickly makes it to his head, holding on as he starts rhythmically sucking and bobbing, swirling and twisting, Robert writhing and coming apart in his hands. He looks up in time just to see him come; neck tipped back and a balled up fist in his mouth, and the sound of water running in both their ears.

A few seconds later, the faucet turns off, and the stranger leaves, the door swinging shut behind them.

Aaron swallows every last drop of him, right until the end, wherein he licks his lips and gets to his feet, smiling in satisfaction.

Leaning forward, he pulls Robert’s underwear back up, tucking his spent penis gently back into them. He runs his fingers against the _Calvin Klein_ logo once again, and then he pulls Robert’s jeans up. As Robert’s breaths seem to slow back to normal, he buttons him and pulls his zipper up; the _zzz_ noise like music to his ears.

Now face to face with Robert, he slides his hands around to Robert’s bum, giving it a nice tight squeeze and pulling it towards his own throbbing groin, as he leans in and kisses him thoroughly, ensuring Robert tastes every last bit of himself.

They pull away breathlessly, smiling at each other, which is when Robert spins them around.

“My turn,” he whispers, coming in for a kiss, but this one more gentle than Aaron’s.

“You don’t have to,” Aaron groans, as Robert moves his mouth to his neck, biting at the spot he knows he likes. “We could wait till we get home.”

Robert pulls away, looking the most offended Aaron’s ever seen him, “If you haven’t noticed, I’ve been waiting for this all day.” 

He hadn’t thought he could get any harder, his dick already throbbing in his jeans, but the second Robert says that almost _all_ of him stiffens, and he just nods silently and bites his lip.

“Good thing my hands are free,” Robert jokes as he unbuttons his jeans and pushes them down in one motion.

“Shut up and get on with it,” Aaron grumbles, his hips starting to roll forward as Robert starts to palm at his already erect shaft; the base of his palm applying pressure at his head, already throbbing and leaking.

When he pulls his hand away, Aaron tries to thrust after it.

“Now now, Aaron,” Robert teases as he gets down on his knees, one painful leg at a time. “That’s not how you approach _science_.”

He reaches into the waistband of Aaron’s boxers, taking out his come slick dick. With one hand wrapped around the shaft, he leans carefully forward, giving it a kiss right at the tip.

Aaron shudders in place, his back firmly against the wall, his whole body trembling as he groans, “ _Fuck science._ ” 

“As you say,” Robert says, before swallowing his head, and not stopping until his lips are almost at the base of his shaft, having hollowed his mouth and clearly his throat as well.

Aaron swears, the words not even making sense, as Robert pulls back, and then again as he moves back in.

As Robert seems to find a steady rhythm, he brings up one hand to the base of Aaron’s shaft, slowly twisting his wrist every few bobs, sending a surge of pleasure coursing through him. He closes his eyes, and runs his mouth further, not even sure if he’s still speaking English.

It’s not long before he feels that familiar coiling of pressure in his belly, the stirrings of a steadily building climax. He thinks of Robert’s face, earlier in the cafe, his cheeks red and looking flustered, and then again in Jai’s office, his hand on his thigh, looking perfectly in control.

When Aaron finally comes, it’s with Robert’s mouth around him, and the spark in his eyes, when he'd first called him his boyfriend plastered in his mind.

After he’s done, swallowing all of Aaron’s come, Robert pulls off, before leaning forward to give his head another gentle kiss.

Aaron’s breath hitches, just a little sensitive, as Robert proceeds to tuck him back in just like he'd done.

He’s buttoning Aaron up, when he finally speaks, his eyes not having left Aaron’s underwear for a minute.

“You really got a spare?” He asks, a smile on his face even as he's still on his knees. Aaron doesn’t know when he’s found him more beautiful.

He shakes off that thought, and gives him a reply, “Yeah. Back at my desk. Why?”

Robert’s smile turns into that familiar shit-eating grin, as he teases, “Just wanted to plan for the future.”

“Shut up,” Aaron mumbles, pulling him up to his feet.

He smiles as he comes in for a kiss. 

:::::

 TWO DAYS LATER… 

:::::

He wakes up in Robert’s bed, the sight of the room around him now more than familiar; painted blue walls muting the early morning light as it streams in, the sky outside grey and cloudy.

Aaron stretches under the covers, arms and legs spread wide and not a stitch on him, as he feels the smoothness of the Egyptian cotton sheets — something he’s learned Robert practically insists on — slide slowly against every inch of his skin.

As he lays there, almost spread out like a starfish, he contemplates joining Robert in the shower, faint humming and the sound of running water coming through from the other side of that door.

He decides against it, if only because he might go for a run, having neglected his exercise in days.

“But that’s because you’ve been getting a different kind of work out lately,” he remembers Robert telling him when he’d complained last night, rolling them over as he’d added, “One that’s a lot more fun.”

Aaron smiles to himself, now suitably awake. He reaches over to check his phone, disconnecting it from the phone charger Robert had plugged into the wall for him, after getting tired of his always stealing his wire.

He’s scrolling through Twitter when he sees a tweet from the paper’s account, announcing Robert’s new column.

Without a second thought, he goes ahead and clicks on it, _without_ having to get a notification to do so.

But then the words load on the screen, and even though he’s pretty much laying down, he still feels the floor go out from under him, pitching him backward in time.

Written there, in big bold letters, are the last words he'd ever hoped to read.

 

**BI-CURIOUS & QUESTIONINGS**

 

**_Trapped In the Closet: How Do I Date?_ **

_— by Robert Sugden_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because of a bunch of factors, none as significant as my own inability to manage my life to a schedule, I've had to post this fic as a WIP. However, I plan on updating it with the last 5 chapters over the next couple of days, a decent amount of which is written. 
> 
> Rest assured that this fic means too much to me to abandon, and that I do know where I'm going with it. 
> 
> I thank you so much for reading this far. Please hit me up on Tumblr, I'm @rustandruin there, if you have any thoughts, questions, comments, or concerns. I'd love to hear from you.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron and Robert have a chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended Listening: 'LOVE.' by Kendrick Lamar ft. Zacari

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

His heart is pounding and time seems like it’s slowed to a standstill, the world sort of bending and warping around him. He struggles to breathe, the air in short supply as the walls of Robert’s room begin closing in on him; plastic melting inward.

Aaron picks up his phone and refreshes the page. Then he refreshes it again and again.

Each time yields the same result.

Each time breaking his heart afresh. 

The churning in his stomach intensifies as he begins to confront the cold, stark truth… 

Robert Sugden betrayed him. 

Did the one thing Aaron thought he really wouldn’t. 

_Why wouldn’t he? Just because you asked?_

And he doesn’t even know what’s worse — that he trusted him and gave him a chance, or the fact that he’s ended up in the same place again; collateral damage for someone else’s career.

 _This is what I get for breaking my rules,_ he thinks, already in the thick of a guilt and blame spiral. _Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…_

He remembers the way Robert had smiled at him as he’d drifted off to sleep the night before, blue-green eyes flickering with drowsiness as he’d leaned down to kiss him goodnight, soft and sweet — and without any kind of a formal warning. 

No “Oh, tomorrow’s the day I publish my next column, and by the way, it’s about you.”

Suddenly it’s just too hot to stay under the covers, the puffy fabric now too claustrophobic and smothering, weighed down by the thoughts of all the missed moments where Robert could have told him; any lingering comfort they could have offered being completely sucked out.

 _But what can you expect?_ Aaron wonders as he manages to disentangle himself and get to his feet. _Even his sheets can betray you._

Once he’s on his feet all he wants to do is run, bolt out of the room and never come back. Go somewhere no one can find him and hurt him ever again.

As soon as the thought strikes, it starts to sink in, his body already in motion as he begins to rush around the room gathering his discarded articles of clothing, his dick swaying in the breeze with the motion of every frantic turn.

_I’ve got to get out of here. I’ve got to go home._

He’s still searching for his underpants when he turns and bumps straight into a tall wall of muscle, Robert having exited the bathroom in nothing but a towel and an amused smile on his face. His hands come up to hold Aaron by the hips trying to help steady him as the shock throws him back, but it just makes his brain register — amidst his current misery — that the only thing keeping their cocks from pressing together is a thick layer of damp towel.

“What’s with the rush?” Robert asks playfully, still damp hair drooping towards his face, his eyes laser-focused on Aaron’s lips with a crooked smile playing on his own. “Thought we weren’t going in till later.”

He comes in for a kiss, the smell of tea tree shampoo slapping Aaron in the face. Suddenly, it’s all too much and he squirms out of Robert’s grasp, wet lips grazing the side of his bearded jaw, as his hands push against the moisture-softened skin and muscle of Robert’s chest.

“I know you’re obsessed with being on time for work, but we’ve still got an hour,” Robert jokes, stepping back.

Aaron doesn’t bother to humour him with a response, simply tosses his gathered clothes onto the bed behind him so he can start getting dressed. 

“Aaron?” Robert asks, confusion setting in.

He reaches out to grab Aaron’s forearm, the gesture causing him to go still; a hot brand on his already burning skin. He turns to look up at Robert, but sees nothing but questions in his eyes. A clear sign he has no idea what’s going on, that he’d lobbed a grenade into Aaron’s world and all but exploded it.

Aaron yanks his arm out of Robert’s grasp and throws aside his boxers, reaching forward to pick up his phone again. He pulls up Robert’s column and shows it to him, watching as his eyes skim the words on the page and he bursts into a great big smile. Even the sight of it is a stab to the heart.

“And?” Robert asks, buzzing with excitement and a tiny bit of pride. “What do you think?”

“Why?” Aaron spits the word out through clenched teeth, voice halfway to a growl. “What made you think I’d want _that_?”

Robert’s face falls immediately, his brow furrowed in confusion as his eyes take in Aaron’s expression; the mingled pain and anger probably writ large across his face. 

“I don’t under-” Robert begins, stepping forward toward him. But Aaron cuts him off, taking another step back.

“You know what?” He says, gesturing between them. “I really thought that _this_ meant something to you.”

 _That I meant something to you._  

He snorts bitterly as he shakes his head, unable to even look at Robert. “But it turns out you weren’t joking about _this_ being research for your dumb column, were you? Well good luck with that, because I won’t be here to help you with that any more.” 

“Maybe I could explain myself better if I knew what I was actually defending myself against,” Robert replies, voice brimming with steadily rising annoyance as he steps to the side and closer to Aaron, getting partially in his face.

“You wrote about us!” Aaron exclaims, his vision now a little bleary.

_You wrote about me._

Wiping his eyes with the back of his bare hand, Aaron turns his phone screen back towards himself and starts to read aloud.

“‘Dating someone who’s still in the closet certainly has its challenges. For one, you can’t share that cute selfie you took together because someone might get suspicious’?” He looks up, meets Robert’s eyes, watches as they blink back in silence. Then he swallows and takes another breath. “‘And it sucks having to pretend you’re single when you know there’s someone you want.’ Robert, this is clearly us.”

“Unless you’re a teenage Pakistani lesbian living in Yorkshire or her girlfriend, it’s clearly not,” Robert points out quietly, the steel in his voice only serving to make his words ten times louder.

They’re a crash in Aaron’s ears, as the wind gets punched out of his sails. “What?” 

Robert nods, looking up at him like he needs Aaron to know, to see, to understand.

“Yeah. Ever since I posted that first column, I get hundreds of emails like this every day,” he says, gaze not wavering. “Most of them are from teenagers, a lot of them asking if it’s ever going to get better. Or sometimes, like this one, questions about how they can still be their true selves while still being safe.”

“Then why doesn’t it say any of that?” Aaron asks, scrolling through the post again, his eyes taking in every other word but not coming up with any of the signifiers Robert had previously mentioned. “She sounds like a bloke here.”

“Yeah, because I changed it. Advice columnist’s prerogative,” Robert explains, voice still quiet, words still loud. “Took out a lot of the more personal stuff and tweaked her pronouns to keep her safe. You’re not the only one of us who’s had a hard time figuring out their sexuality.”

And then, somewhat sadly, “Besides, it’s not like you’re even in the closet. You’re just private and I respect that. Just because I don’t shut up about being bisexual doesn’t mean _you_ have to keep talking about being gay all the time. I’d never force you to do that unless _you_ wanted to. I thought you knew that.” 

 _I guess I didn’t_.

Aaron flounders, licking his lips as he tries to come up with an answer, Robert having stolen his out from right out under him. Because that’s exactly it, isn’t it? He’d never thought his sexual orientation was anyone else’s business. Just his and the person he’s with.

Only now he’s actually managed to use his thoughts about his own sexuality to both insult _and_ hurt the person he’s with.

“What?” Robert asks, when he doesn’t say anything after a while, his lips forming what could be considered a sneer if not for the tears shining in his eyes, rendering him a portrait of pain. “Shocked I’ve actually been listening to you and trying to do some good? Or shocked I have a heart?”

Aaron doesn’t know what to do, all his previous pain and fury funnelling their way into guilt. For the first time that morning, his limbs suddenly feel heavier, the cool morning air wrapping around them as regret starts soaking through his muscles and settling in his bones. He opens his mouth to answer, but nothing comes out of it.

He just wants to go to sleep for a thousand years, the weight of his own disappointment crashing down on him like a wave.

Robert runs a hand over his face, before bringing it down to perch on his hip, just like his other one; fingers straddling the divide between towel and skin.

“I can’t tell what hurts more,” Robert says slowly, voice breaking the silence. “That my boyfriend thinks so little of me, or that he doesn’t feel like telling me the real reason he’s behaving like this.”

Aaron looks up, tries to deny it, but even as he opens his mouth he knows it’s futile. He closes it again.

Robert looks disappointed at that, sighing as he says, “If you’re not going to give me an explanation, you might as well leave. I don’t think we have anything more to say here.”

He holds out an arm, gesturing towards the door.

“Robert,” Aaron pleads, stepping forward like he’s been shot, the pain of his words hitting him straight in the chest, but Robert just turns away, heading for the other side of the bed — his side of the bed — where a chair rests with his pre-planned outfit already laid out for the day.

He looks the most tired Aaron’s ever seen him and it only makes the pain worse. Because he caused it, didn’t he? In typical Aaron Dingle fashion, he took all that pain and anger and hurt within him and turned it into _this_ , an emotional Midas laying waste to everything that cares about him or even tries.

Thinking back to a few moments ago, Aaron curses at his past self, at the words he’d let spill out of his mouth, too preoccupied with the ache in his chest to even try and hold any of them back. Instead, he’d let it eat him whole, and channelled it outward to hurt someone else.

Someone who’s done nothing but forgive him time and again. 

Someone who’s been patient with him as he’d worked through his feelings and overcome some of that initial mistrust. 

Someone who’s constantly seeing who he is and simply letting him be.

He watches as Robert starts to get dressed, back turned to him as he drops his towel and graces him with the sight of his naked freckled bum, before sliding on his underwear one leg at a time. The white letters of the _Calvin Klein_ logo are clear even from he’s stood across the room — as is the muted _snap_ of his waistband — his heart panging loud and hard as Aaron realises he’s not ready to say goodbye to this.

To any of this.

Or what it’s grown to be: morning kisses when he wakes up and afternoon cups of coffee (bought under the pretence of having lost a bet); jokes traded over texts and chats, and everything in between.

But seeing the slope of Robert’s shoulders as he slides on his ironed white shirt, he’s more than aware that a simple sorry won’t cut it. Not when he keeps hurting him like this.

 _Top 10 Ways to Make It Up to Your Boyfriend After You’ve Broken His Heart._  

He can see the answer in his mind, what he has to do. But knowing and doing are two separate things. Thankfully this next part isn’t the half of the battle he has to fight and win. That part’s now over and done with.

It’s going to sting. He knows it is. But he can take that. If only so Robert will finally be able to look at him again.

He unlocks his phone and shifts his weight onto one hip as he searches for what he’s looking for on YouTube.

“I’m sorry,” he calls out, watching as Robert’s back tenses as he starts to button up, blue elbow patches wrapping around the curve of his arm in a way that Aaron’s actually come to enjoy looking at.

Robert sighs. “I thought I’d asked you to leave.” 

“You said, only if I wasn’t going to explain,” Aaron points out, a note of hope ringing out in his voice. “Guess that means I’m ready.”

Before Robert can say anything, he hits play on the video on his phone, cranking up the volume so the silence is replaced with the acoustic guitar strains of a now too-familiar song. He cringes inwardly with every note as it starts to fill the space.

_Their space._

Robert turns to look at him, shirt half unbuttoned thanks to fingers frozen in place, and frowns. “Music’s not going to fix this.”

And because he can’t resist a snarky comment, “Thought something like this would be too commercial for your tastes.”

Aaron just swallows, not saying anything until the verse kicks in, smooth singing and familiar lyrics starting to echo between them. He can see Robert listening, taking them in, even if he doesn’t fully understand the meaning just yet.

“The song. It’s about me,” Aaron tells him, doing his best not to blink or look away.

Robert’s brow furrows as he looks at him questioningly, clearly doing some kind of complex math in his head, the song playing around them the entire time. His eyes widen after a second, looking at him in an entirely new light.

Aaron’s not sure if he likes it. 

“Why would Ed Roberts write a song about you?” Robert asks, frowning in confusion. “Unless... You dated him.”

The way he says it is with a hint of disbelief. But Aaron thinks of warm eyes, high cheekbones, and a guitar that would follow them everywhere — sometimes even into bed as Ed would tinker with his melodies way into the early hours, Aaron falling asleep to distracted humming on an almost regular basis.

It still travels everywhere; the second-hand acoustic Fender Aaron had bought as a birthday present from a thrift store downtown now playing on a stage to millions.

Aaron nods. “We were together for about a year.”

Robert looks surprised, even sits back down on the chair, not caring that he’s going to crease his freshly ironed and folded pants. “It was never in the news. Or I would have found it all those times I’d looked you up.”

Aaron smiles sadly, the idea of Robert googling his name late at night reminding him of his own hate-reading adventures.

“It was just before he became famous. He’d written that song and he’d agreed not to include it in the album, but the label wanted him to make it his debut single,” Aaron says, sighing as he explains. “He had to choose between me or his record deal… ‘Love Lines’ became his first hit.”

“Wait,” Robert interrupts, brows furrowing tighter. “He _knew_ you didn’t like that song?”

Aaron nods, knowing he owes him the full explanation. Only he can’t bring himself to face Robert for it, so he goes and sits on the bed, beside his pile of clothing, bare bum resting on rumpled Egyptian cotton sheets with his back now turned towards him.

“Coming out wasn’t easy. It felt like suddenly everyone, my mum, my family, the kids at school, all thought they knew who I was,” Aaron explains, his eyes locked on the hardwood floor in front of him as he remembers his teenage self’s frustration and the time it had taken for him to accept any of this. “It was like I had to start acting a certain way because that’s what _they_ expected. Like all they saw was my sexuality and not me.”

He sighs. “But I just wanted to be me.”

He can feel Robert’s eyes on him, a steady spotlight in the centre of his back, gently coaxing the words out of him.

“One day I got so sick of it, I got in the car and drove away,” Aaron says, swallowing the lump that’s beginning to form in his throat as he continues. “But just as I started nearing the edge of the quarry, this song came on the radio. I remembered your dad having written about it in his book and how I had yet to finished rereading it, which meant I hadn’t got to my favourite part yet.” 

The thought of it makes him smile as he feels the echoes of the urgency of that teenagerly concern, wiping at his eyes as he does so. “So I turned around, drove back home, and finished my re-read that very night. That’s how I knew this is what I definitely wanted to do. Give someone else something that might make _them_ turn around some day.”

He sniffles, nodding to himself. He still can’t bring himself to turn around and face Robert.

Not that he needs to. Robert’s already talking and piecing the rest of the story together.

“You told Ed that story,” he says, as the chorus kicks in for the second time. “And he wrote a song about it?”

Aaron nods, biting his lip as he stares at a particular spot on the floor. “Guess he needed ‘inspiration,’ or whatever.”

The song continues to play in the silence, the notes bouncing against the walls. 

“Turn that off.” It’s more a command than a request, Robert’s voice dripping with disgust. Aaron gladly obliges.

There’s some shuffling on the bed behind him, the mattress starting to dip and creak a bit as a weight makes its way across it.

Aaron waits for it to settle, a pair of warm thighs appearing next to his on the bed, Robert’s generated body heat flowing into his own as he shifts to sit a little closer together, even reaching out to take Aaron’s hand in his. Their fingers intertwine and he gives Aaron’s hand a squeeze; a sturdy tether lest he float away into his memories.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell ya about any of this stuff earlier,” Aaron apologises, soft and low. “But how do you tell someone that the song currently sitting at the top of the charts for almost a couple of years now is actually about _you_?”

He means for it to be a joke, something to lighten the mood, but Robert’s voice is firm if not stern. “Aaron, this is _not_ your fault.”

When he turns to look up at Robert, he finds him with his jaw clenched, and his eyes a sharp metal green. “You hear me?”

Aaron feels a chill go down his spine that has nothing to do with the low temperature.

“What he did was incredibly selfish and completely insensitive. You deserve none of that,” Robert looks away, shaking his head, anger simmering just below the surface. “God. I can’t imagine what it must have been like. Hearing that trash everywhere, and then having to _write_ about it.”

The absolute disgust on his face, causes Aaron’s lips to curve upwards, warmth rising in his chest like a bubble.

“I made my peace with it,” He explains. “What you can’t change and all that.”

Robert meets his eyes with a pointed look, one eyebrow raised as he clearly questions that.

His cheeks burn even as his smile spreads. “Yeah, alright. I’ve not really made my peace with it.”

But then he clarifies. “It’s just… If I wanted to write about myself, I would write about myself. But it’s not something I’m really interested in.”

“Well, I hope you know I’d never do that to you,” Robert tells him softly, running his thumb back and forth on Aaron’s. “And that I’m fine not telling anyone else about us.”

“Really?” Aaron asks, searching Robert’s face but coming up with nothing but sureness.

“Yes,” he confirms, giving his hand a squeeze. “I quite like having you to myself. I’m not very good at sharing.”

They smile at each other, Aaron’s moist eyes gazing into Robert’s much drier green ones. “Neither am I.”

He leans in for a kiss, his lips soft against Robert’s as he allows himself to simply absorb all the warmth and comfort he has to offer.

They break apart, still smiling fondly. Aaron breathing more freely than he has in a while.

:::::  
 

He decides to give reading Robert’s column another go in their shared Uber ride over to the office, both of them now running late as a result of this morning’s chat. Thankfully, he’d already had a change of clothes on hand, a pleasant side effect of his plans to go running being regularly foiled by the man he now calls his boyfriend. (Not that he minds too much, Robert is the only one who ever seems to notice his change in hoodies anyway.) 

As he scrolls and reads through Robert’s column once more, Aaron realises what he’d failed to see before, having been too blinded by his own pain and feelings at that particular point in time. There’s a knack and an easy understanding to the way Robert writes, with a kind of humour that used to ring a little empty in his earlier work — even if the cheekiness did carry through. And while it’s still present now, it’s accompanied by a warmth and an empathy that Aaron knows is plentiful, especially if Robert is given that chance.

_But he isn’t usually, is he? Especially not by me._

His eyes come back to the last couple of lines, Robert now dispensing advice as best he can, as he tries to wrap up his conclusion.

_You can date someone who’s still in the closet. You can date while still in it yourself. It just won’t be as easy as if you were both out. (Though sometimes that’s not too much better either.) Because Love isn’t always straight — or kind, or easy._

_So don’t shut yourself off to the possibility of it, just because the other person isn’t ready on this one particular front. Just make sure you’re as careful as you need to be to keep yourself safe. But remember, it does get better. You just might have to wait a little longer. That’s all._

_Not everyone needs to know about your love for it to be real. All you really need is each other._

The words settle in his chest — a warm, soothing blanket — right beside his slowly swelling pride.

If Robert’s last column had put a smile on his face, this one has him positively grinning.

He’s about to say something when he feels Robert’s knee knock against his, the light touch a casual reminder that he’s still here, still sat beside Aaron, checking his email and texting and tweeting; lost in a world of his own.

Another rush of affection comes over him as he thinks of Robert’s writing again. He looks up and gazes over to where Robert’s sat on his right, the cloudy sky emphasising his fading tan, his hair a blonde, styled coiff again; his insistence on doing so costing them precious morning minutes and making their driver (a chatty fellow named Bob) have to wait. He traces the curve of Robert’s smile with his eyes, lingering on the way his attention is fixed on his phone, blue-green eyes intently flickering, his long thumbs flying over the small keyboard as he replies to grateful tweet after grateful tweet.

That swelling of pride thumps a little stronger, sending a wave of happiness emanating out of his chest.

Sensing his attention, Robert looks up, concern in his eyes as he does so.

“Everything alright?” He asks, alert eyes scanning, but Aaron just nods and smiles reassuringly. 

“Yeah. This was amazing. You did a really good job.”

He holds up his phone, a gesture indicating his column, watching as Robert’s face goes from confused to beaming.

“You really think so?” Robert asks, somehow nervous again. Not that it keeps the excited spark from his eyes.

Aaron thinks of his younger self and his current self and how he hadn’t realised how much they’d both needed to hear those words be said — even if it was in a response to someone else.

He reaches out and takes Robert’s hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze, savouring the moment while they still have it.

He nods again, smiling as he replies, “Trust me, Robert. I know so.”

:::::

Despite their plan to enter the office building and head up to their floor, separately and at different times — trying to stagger it so as to not arouse suspicion — they both end up arriving at their desks at the same time, even sticking close for those few minutes they’d passed through the narrow corridor on their way over; their hands brushing against each other the entire time, sending shivers of excitement up through Aaron’s entire body as he keeps thinking about how he's walking right beside his  _boyfriend_. 

Robert grins at him smugly as he stands over his desk, not even bothering to get out of his leather jacket as he pulls out his chair and plops himself down without any hesitation.

“Late night?” He teases with a knowing smile, leaning back and spreading his legs out like Aaron’s learned he always does when sitting, not a care for how suggestive it might appear to someone else. (Though that might just be him.) “Not like _you_ to come in this late.”

“Yeah, well I was stuck hanging out with this bloke,” Aaron murmurs under his breath, remaining standing as he makes an attempt at tidying up his desk. “Dead boring. Wouldn’t shut up about something called _Westworld_?”

He notes the flash in Robert’s eyes with a smug kind of pleasure, knowing full well that _he’d_ been the one who suggested they watch four episodes in a row, even when Robert had been ready to go to sleep.

“He sounds quite smart, this bloke of yours,” Robert lobs back, powering his laptop up. “Great taste in television.”

“Terrible taste in music though,” Aaron fires back, throwing out some loose scraps of paper he doesn’t need. “Kept trying to convince me to give S Club 7 another chance.”

He makes the same face he knows he’d made the previous evening, when Robert had not-so-jokingly said he was going to play their first album — only to change his mind and go with Adele’s latest one instead, a compromise designed to appease both their sensibilities. After all, as Robert had noted a little too smugly, Aaron himself had been quite complimentary while reviewing it.

“Not his fault you don’t appreciate the ‘classics,’” Robert replies now with an amused smile.

Aaron smirks as he adjusts one of the photos pinned to the divider between them, a picture of his and Adam’s drunken selfie at a football match. “Would be his fault if he were to end up single.”

With that, he looks up at Robert and watches as he slowly starts to return his smile, rolling his eyes as reluctance fades into fondness, his blue-green eyes sparkling in amusement; both of them more than aware of the emptiness of Aaron’s threat given this morning’s discussion, but both still willing to let it stand.

“Oh good! You’re both here!”

Aaron turns to his left to find Kerry Wyatt standing there with a big grin on her face, the fashion editor decked out in hot pink yoga pants, a white top with some kind of black geometric design, and a light blue denim jacket. He’d raise an eyebrow if this wasn’t one of her tamer ensembles, having attended at least _one_ morning meeting to see her sitting there in a fuzzy green sweater dress paired with leopard print tights.

He looks over at Robert, but he doesn’t seem to have any thoughts on her outfit, the way he always seems to do with Aaron’s.

Raising an eyebrow in curiosity, he turns to face Kerry.

“I just got off the phone with Jai and Debbie,” she’s telling them, coming closer until she’s stood right by their desks. “And the studio’s ours for a couple of hours after lunch. So I’m having all the clothes steamed and sent over. They’ll be waiting in the changin’ area just like ya asked.”

“Thanks,” Robert replies politely, before asking, “Even the…?”

Kerry wiggles her eyebrows in excitement, grinning as she says, “Oh yeah. Especially that.”

Aaron feels his stomach flutter, unsure what they might be planning for this assignment. All he knows is that he’s already not a fan of the look on both their faces.

Kerry turns her attention over to him, that same grin still on her face. Only now it’s a lot more knowing than he’d like, especially when paired with the way she’s looking at him now, almost like she’s taking stock of him and storing information for later use.

_Yeah… Definitely not a fan._

“You all excited about ya big makeover?” Kerry asks, enthusiasm coming through loud and clear.

Aaron shrugs, the idea not appealing to him in the least — and definitely not helped along by her and Robert’s little display of secrecy. “It’s just clothes innit?”

“Excuse me?” Kerry asks, eyebrows shooting high up on her forehead as she stares at him disbelievingly. “What you’re wearing’ right now, _those_ are just clothes. What Robert picked out for ya? That’s somethin’ else. Makes me wish he were makin’ me over.”

“Why? What’s he got picked out?” Aaron asks, his voice measured, even as his stomach slowly turns into a growing pit of nerves. His brows furrow as he quickly takes in Kerry’s outfit again, before turning to Robert in question. Because it cannot be a good sign when _Kerry Wyatt_ of all people is jealous of Robert’s choice of clothing.

He has visions of himself dressed in a glittery silver bomber jacket, followed by more of floral print shirts, as well as one about a spectacularly red pair of pants he’d seen hanging in Robert’s closet, all possible attempts to have him wear more colour — or at least step out of his current clothing comfort zone.

But all he gets back is a mysterious smile, Robert’s green-blue gaze now as inscrutable as ever — save for a telltale twinkle of mischief that sneaks right through, his signature look when he’s up to something.

Aaron narrows his eyes, trying to figure out if he is indeed pulling his leg, or if this is just a creative way for him to both get payback _and_ dress him up in a variety of absurd outfits that he’s always wanted to see him in. (Another thing he’s discovered over the last couple of days, is that Robert Sugden doesn’t mind going out of his way when it comes to fulfilling any sexual desires, as evidenced by his suffering through a meal of beans on toast for dinner on Monday night, because Aaron had been out of everything else.)

But his brief staredown earns him no results.

“You’ll see when you get there,” Kerry answers cheerily for both of them. “Trust me, man. You’re going to love it.”

Aaron thinks of the red pants and shudders once more, before gruffly remarking, “We’ll see about that.”

His words seem to bounce right off her, as Kerry just shakes her head and announces, “Alright, I better go make sure everything’s ready. I’ll see you twos at the studio after lunch. Make sure you don’t eat anything too heavy. I’m tellin’ ya, stomach bloat is no joke.”

He watches her leave before he turns back to Robert, who’s now gazing up at him with a smirk on his lips.

“What?” Aaron asks, feeling a little self-conscious, especially now that he knows what’s in store.

“You’re nervous…” Robert observes, his eyes narrowing as his smirk grows wider.

Aaron scoffs, even as a blush flares across his cheeks. “No, ‘m not.”

“What? You don’t trust me?” Robert asks, enjoying this a little too much.

Aaron looks up at him again. Despite his light and playful tone, he can still sense a nervous hesitancy in Robert’s words as his eyes flicker across his face.

“I didn’t say that,” Aaron answers truthfully as he meets Robert’s eyes, a meagre attempt at reassurance.

He waits until Robert looks away and his shoulders relax a little, before he adds, “It’s your _taste_ I don’t trust.”

He grins to himself as he hears Robert’s neck snap as he turns to look at him, clearly offended by his insinuation.

Aaron just shrugs and goes on to explain, “Don’t act surprised. You think S Club 7 is ‘classic.’”

To his surprise, Robert just chuckles in response, shaking his head as he turns back to his work.

“What?” Aaron finds himself asking again, unable to hold the question back.

“Oh nothing,” Robert says, as he continues typing and clicking. “You’re quite cute when you’re nervous.”

Before he can reply, Robert puts his earphones in, the bouncy beat of the S Club 7 single “Reach” audible all the way from where he’s standing.

Shaking his head, he finally takes a seat, switching on his own laptop and waiting for it to load. As he does so, his stomach flutters nervously; the feeling only intensifying after his and Robert’s conversation.

Checking the clock he sees that they still have a few hours to go — not that it stops him from feeling any sillier. He doesn’t know why he’s so tense, there really is nothing to it. All he has to do is put on some clothes and then have his photo taken.

With that in mind, he tries to remind himself of what he’d told Kerry about this assignment just moments earlier. That he doesn’t care, and with good reason.

_It’s just clothes, innit?_

:::::

He ends up walking to the studio by himself, Robert having left for the shoot ten minutes earlier, declaring that he’d needed to get the _many_ outfits he’d picked out for Aaron all set up — as well as something about a feather boa?

Aaron would like to think that he was joking about that specific accessory, but having seen the smile Robert had flashed him as he’d sauntered past his desk, he’s not sure if he might actually be serious. Because every time he thinks he has Robert Sugden pinned down, another aspect of him comes floating up to the surface.

Like this latest one, where he’d been teasing Aaron for the past hour and a half, randomly messaging him with photos of ridiculous clothes he’d said he’d picked out for him to model; tight denim shorts and pastel-coloured polo t-shirts, even something horrendously titled a “mankini.” (Aaron had actually considered dumping him the second that image had loaded, but then he’d heard one of Robert’s low chuckles, and the warmth in his chest had convinced him to spare him.) 

And as much as he’d known that that last one was a gag, it still didn’t do much to alleviate the tension coursing through his system at even the _thought_ of what he’s about to do.

Because Aaron Dingle is not one to have his picture taken — least of all in clothes he doesn’t feel absolutely comfortable in.

He pauses by a window and takes in his reflection in the glass, black jeans paired with a long-sleeved black sweater, having decided to eschew his purple hoodie at Robert’s place for once, deciding he didn’t really need it given the slowly warming spring weather.

Looking at himself now though, he doesn’t see a problem with what he’s wearing, the clothes looking perfectly serviceable to his eyes. If anything, he thinks he actually looks kind of great. The colour and comfort level both emblematic of his tastes.

And besides, what’s so wrong with his sense of style anyway? What’s so bad about what he wears that it needs a complete overhaul, like both Robert _and_ Kerry have been suggesting over the last two days, both their eyes sweeping over him any time they’d gotten a chance. 

A small part of him can’t help but point out that it’s not like either of _them_ has a particularly impressive dress sense themselves, having seen what they tend to wear on a regular basis.

Okay, maybe Robert does tend to look good most, if not _all_ , the time. But that’s when he’s wearing his white or blue button-up shirts. (And maybe that one blue sweater with the brown elbow patches that Aaron’s now realising he has a bit of a soft spot for as well.)

Mentally flipping through what he’s seen of Robert’s closet, he notes that there are still plenty of shirts — as well as that one pair of red pants — that he constantly find himself raising his eyebrows up at. Like that floral shirt Robert had worn that night to the concert, one of _three_ similarly loud and patterned ones that Aaron had had to dissuade him from wearing into the office yesterday.

_Maybe I’m not the one who needs a makeover._

He rounds the corner, the studio door now within sight, his pace slowing as he begins to near it.

Any indignation he’d felt the last few seconds has flitted away, leaving in its place only cold stone panic; the muscles already beginning to tighten in his chest, his breathing slowly growing more shallow.

He wonders if it’s too late to get someone else to cover this aspect of the assignment, have someone else model the clothes while he just does the write up, or perhaps gives Robert a brief interview.

But then he thinks of all the effort Robert and Kerry have put in, all the emails they’d sent back and forth over the last couple of days; Robert outlining each and every new development, enough so that Aaron had started tuning most of them out. His way of working with some sense of quiet.

_Maybe they won’t notice if I don’t show up._

He stands there and stares at the door, well aware that it’s time to sink or swim. 

He goes over all the options in his head once more, from faking sick to just going ahead with his half of the assignment. 

However, the more he continues to think about fleeing, the more he pictures Robert’s grin as he’d walked past him, his confidence that Aaron won’t wear whatever he’s given. It gives him the push he needs to get over this hurdle, because Aaron Dingle never runs from his fears — or lets Robert Sugden get the last word in edgeways.

Even if that were to involve a lime green mankini.

Letting out a deep breath he’s been holding this entire time, Aaron wraps his hand around the cold steel door handle.

He opens the door and goes in.

:::::

The studio is nothing like it was for Robert’s photoshoot. Gone are the dramatic shadows that lingered at the edges, and the hyper-focused key lights directed at the centre of the room, replaced instead with a few colourful backdrops and plenty of wide open lighting. There’s nowhere for him to hide, even if he thought he could get away with it.

_Kerry was right about the stomach bloat._

Aaron stands awkwardly by the door, suddenly grateful that he’s been sipping on coffee all day, as he tries to spot a familiar face in all the hustle and bustle of setting up. But surprisingly, despite what he’d said about meeting him here, Robert’s nowhere to be found. Neither, for that matter, is Kerry.

The only person he sees and does recognise is Debbie as she stands in the middle, busy supervising her team as they set up and position each of the three different backdrops; each, he assumes, designated for a different look.

Not for the first time today Aaron regrets not paying attention to what Robert had been saying about the shoot, now fairly certain he’s missed some kind of valuable instruction.

It’s funny though, as he looks around, he hadn’t realised just how big this space was when he’d come in for Robert’s photo shoot last week. Almost instantly, his cheeks start to heat up, his now automatic response to any and all memories of that day; the mental video of Robert adjusting himself on the bed now burned into the deepest recesses of his brain. The thought actually helps a little, going some way towards dispelling his slowly mounting nerves…

… that is until he spots the camera Debbie will be using, the size of the lens much bigger and wider than the one she’d used on Robert. Even the thought of his boyfriend lying in bed half naked isn’t enough to hold off the tension now spreading through his limbs like quickfire.

He swallows nervously, taking a step back, only to find himself noticed by Bernice, the beauty and fashion editor dressed from head to toe in pink; a human flamingo decked out in a coat and a dress and heels.

“Aaron! Finally decided to grace us with your presence I see,” she says, as always a little too loud. She steps a little closer, her floral perfume a punch to the face. He wonders if anyone’s ever told hr to go easy on it, even as he resists the urge to first cough, and then tell her himself.

Aaron frowns as he notices the way she’s eyeing his face in silence, her chin held up as she scrutinises him, mouth pursed and turned down in judgement. 

“You’d think with a big photo shoot coming up, you’d have at least started a moisturising regimen,” she tells him, making no bones about her disdain for his lack of a skincare routine. “There’s only so much a good concealer can do.” 

Aaron takes a step back, shaking his head. “What? No-”

_No one said anything about makeup._

“That won’t be necessary, Bernice,” Robert’s voice calls out from his right, where appears at his side a few seconds later, a polite but confident smile on his lips. “Don’t think Aaron needs any right now. Besides, we want people looking at his clothes. Not his face.”

Something about the way he says it makes Aaron turn to look at him, catching the glint of appreciation in his eyes just in time. He can practically _hear_ Robert think, _Not that anyone wouldn’t want to look at him_. His cheeks start to burn in silent response.

“But he’s got such a handsome face. It would be a shame to waste it,” Bernice argues and for a second Aaron thinks Robert’s going to break and agree. “Especially since he’s blessed with very nice skin.”

But Robert just remains firm on this resolution and shakes his head. “Don’t worry. We’ll be sure to ask if we end up doing a story on male makeup trends.”

Aaron immediately shoots Robert a look, an advanced warning that he will definitely not be serving as the model for that particular one should it ever happen. Today being the end of his own short-lived career in front of the camera.

Bernice does not look happy at Robert’s dismissal, but she doesn’t say anything as she turns to leave.

Watching her walk away, Aaron lets out a breath of relief, some of that built up tension dispersing from his system as well.

He feels Robert’s elbow gently nudge his arm, and he turns to find him grinning. “You ready to see what you’ll be wearing?”

“Not like I’ve got any other plans,” he replies, nerves resuming their tingling.

::::: 

  
He follows Robert all the way to the side of the room, where some big grey felt panels have been set up, like the kind they use to split up the conference rooms upstairs. They walk past them, and turn left immediately, Aaron quickly realising that it’s actually a sectioned-off, designated changing area. Just like Kerry had mentioned earlier. There's a large three section mirror set up against the wall all the way at the end, and a chair as well as a wheeled metal clothes rack set up in the side towards the middle, close to an open curtain hanging on a makeshift curtain rod that cuts the space right in the centre.

Kerry’s standing beside it, going through the clothes. She flashes him a big warm smile as they approach her.

“What do you think?” She asks, gesturing around. “Thought you might like some privacy.”

Aaron offers her a thin-lipped smile, his grateful relief tempering some of his nervousness. “Thanks.”

“Oh don’t thank me!” Kerry waves him off. “The whole thing was actually Robert’s idea.”

He turns to face Robert, who shakes his head like it’s no big deal. As if _he_ hadn’t had to get redressed out in the open — albeit mostly in the dark — after his own shoot a few days ago. Aaron’s smile turns real at his resulting thoughtfulness.

“Alright. So…” Kerry declares, stepping back from the clothes. “We’ve separated your looks from casual to formal. But don’t worry. There are only three outfits and they’re real easy to figure out. I’m sure you can see what’s what.”

Aaron nods, going over the clothes again. But then he spots something that he’s certain doesn’t belong. He pulls out a dark blue shirt, speckled with tiny silver dots.

“Oh, that’s actually _mine_ ,” Robert explains, a sheepish smile on his face as he takes the shirt hanger from Aaron’s hand. “Forgot to separate it out from the rest of these. Thought we might need a reference.”

He takes the shirt and hangs it at the end of the rack, sliding it to the right so it’s a bit separate from the rest of the clothes meant for Aaron. 

“Well, I’m going to see if Debbie needs any help,” Kerry informs them, giving them a friendly nod. “You two can discuss how you want to do this. I’ll see you out there in a bit.” 

She smiles excitedly at Aaron as she walks past. He waits until she’s around the corner before he says anything, not sure if he can even find the words.

“You didn’t have to,” he finally says, looking around, both his hands stuffed in his front pockets.

“But I wanted to,” Robert insists quietly, taking Kerry’s place by the clothes. “Figured you’d probably be nervous and that this might help.”

Aaron nods and looks away because it actually really does.

He scratches the back of his head, his eyes falling back onto the clothes and as he goes over everything on it, he once again notes a distinct lack of crazy patterns and bright colours. Instead, the surprisingly few items of clothing currently on display on the hangers are all in jewel tones or dark colours.

“No feather boa?” Aaron asks, checking around the space, but it’s bare, except for a curtain toward the side, and a chair closer to the mirror.

Robert looks back and smiles at him.

“Why? Do you want one?” He asks playfully. “I’m sure Kerry’s got one lying around.”

He moves like he’s going to call her, but Aaron quickly warns him, “Don’t you dare.”

Shaking his head, he turns his attention to the clothes hanging in front of him, running a hand down the leg of a pair of dark blue jeans currently folded on a hanger, impressed with the quality of the denim. He pauses for a moment, his thumb stroking the fabric, and turns to Robert and says, “Pretty sure it’s the same as what I’m wearing.”

He looks up and turns to Robert as he adds, “Thought this was supposed to be a makeover.”

Robert turns to look at him, blue green eyes meeting his, a small smile forming on his lips.

“It is,” he agrees, his voice soft and low like he’s confessing a secret. “But if you haven’t noticed, I quite like you as is. Why would I want to change anything?”

“Pretty sure _that_ wasn’t the assignment,” Aaron points out, before glancing around. “Because otherwise, what’s the point of all _this_?”

“I think you’ll find it is,” Robert says, handing him a hanger with a green V-neck sweater on it.

Aaron takes it from him, and inspects it closely. It looks like something he might actually wear.

“You don’t need to change who you are to dress better,” Robert explains gently nodding at Aaron’s current outfit. “You just need to make better, more flattering choices.”

“And this has nothing to do with you wanting to see me in this?” Aaron asks, holding the sweater up against him as proof.

Robert looks at it and then back at Aaron’s face.

“Of course it does,” he answers, like the answer was obvious all along. But then he bursts into a grin. “What? I’m only human.”

Aaron shakes his head and then nods to the space on the other side of the curtain. “Then go be human out there. I’ve got to get ready.”

Robert pouts, but does what he says. Exiting the space so he can get out of his clothes and into the new ones.

Once he’s stepped past the other side, Aaron pulls the curtain shut after him, both happy and grateful for this tiny sliver of privacy.

He walks over to the clothes rack and grabs his first outfit, slowly sighing as he begins to get changed.  
 

:::::

He stands there, staring at himself in the mirror, unable to take his eyes off his new outfit and the way it looks on him. 

As per Robert’s suggestion, he’d put on the emerald green v-neck sweater, pairing it with the dark blue skinny jeans that are similar to the ones he has on, both articles of clothing fitting him like a glove; Robert having done a remarkable job sizing him for fit.

Aaron twists his torso to the left, and then to the right, seeing how the white overhead lights bounce off his sleeves, the soft fabric clinging to his muscles and making them look more defined, as if he’s been working out.

He thinks of his attempts to do so — and Robert’s inadvertent efforts at foiling them — and smiles.

It’s interesting, he notes as he sees his reflection do the same, somehow he looks exactly like himself, but also just a tiny bit different.

_And somehow, a whole lot better._

“Everything alright?”

Robert’s voice sounds through the curtain, Aaron can hear a small note of concerned worry, like he’s scared he won’t like what he’s seeing.

He couldn’t be more wrong.

Instead of giving him a verbal answer, Aaron decides to just show him what he’s seen. Pulling back the curtain and stepping on the other side.

Robert looks up at the sound of the rings on the makeshift curtain rod, but upon seeing Aaron he goes completely still; the only thing moving is his eyes as they sweep down the front of his person.

Aaron feels a shiver run down his spine, a combination of the air conditioning and Robert’s gaze, and wishes yet again that he had his hoodie with him. Or at least that Robert had thought to provide him with one.

But he puts that thought aside as he focuses on Robert, his nerves starting to tremble now that his boyfriend hasn’t said anything for the last couple of seconds.

“Uh, what do you think?” Aaron asks, scratching the back of his neck as he looks at his feet, unsure if he can take Robert’s negative reaction.

“Sorry,” Robert whispers, stepping a little closer. Then he meets Aaron’s eyes, and smiles nice and slow. “Just thinking about how good I am at my job.”

Aaron rolls his eyes, and opens his mouth to retort, when he hears a low wolf whistle to his right. He looks up to see Kerry nodding at him appreciatively. His cheeks turn instantly pink.

Not that she notices, already as excited as _Robert._

“You were right man, green is totally his colour,” she nods appreciatively, before adding, as an aside meant solely for Aaron, “I don’t know why you don’t wear it more.”

He smiles and accepts the compliment, unsure what else there is to say beyond his, “Uh, thanks.”

“Are we doing this, or what?” Debbie’s voice calls out from the other side of the grey panels, sounding as bored and annoyed as she always does.

“Guess I better go,” Aaron says, with a quick glance at Robert.

 _You’ll do fine_ , his eyes seem to say, so he just nods a silent response. After all, he’s just standing and having his photo taken… Right?

Taking a deep breath, Aaron walks around the corner (and past a still-there Kerry) and makes his way to where Debbie’s pointing.

:::::  
 

It goes just as bad as he could have imagined. And after that, it manages to get a little bit worse, which, of course, only adds to the rising tensions in the room.

“Just try and stand as naturally as you can,” Debbie instructs him for what seems like the millionth time, her voice growing increasingly clipped with frustration.

Aaron tries to do as she says, loosening his arms at his sides, giving the camera a big smile as he shifts his weight onto his left hip. Every bit of it feels awkward and uncomfortable — and that was before he started developing a cramp in his side.

He can’t explain it — though he’s certainly tried — but it’s almost like he’s forgotten what to do with his arms and legs, part of him itching to just shove his hands in his pockets to generate some warmth in his cold, stiff fingers, the other part of him is already feeling too hot to exist, a nervous sweat starting to form on his brow.

He hears Debbie sigh, so he attempts another smile, his cheeks already sore from all the straining. But this one doesn’t work either because he just hears another sigh of frustration instead of a flurry of clicks, a clear sign she doesn’t like what she’s seeing.

“Why don’t we take a break?” Debbie finally announces, putting the camera down. “You can… I don’t know. Try and loosen up in the meantime.”

Handing her camera to her assistant, a young blonde college-aged girl, she walks off toward the door, leaving Aaron awkwardly standing there, feeling like a fool.

Frowning, he starts walking back over to the changing area, just about ready to change his mind about this entire assignment. What made him think he could ever do something like this?

_Robert._

As if on command, he’s standing right in front of him, holding out a cup of tea in one of those small to-go cups, as well as one for himself.

“I can’t do this,” Aaron tells him, a rough and gruff whisper, not moving to take the tea from him, just swallowing and gazing up into his eyes. “I don’t know what I’m doing up there.”

“What do you mean?” Robert asks, as if he’s speaking another language.

“I don’t know how to just ‘act natural’ like she’s askin’,” Aaron stresses, crossing his arms across his chest, once again missing the warmth and feel of his hoodies. “Because none of this is ‘natural,’ is it? None of this is _me_.”

“I thought you liked this outfit,” Robert says, worry flashing in his eyes as he watches him intently.

Aaron nods back, because it’s true, he does. It’s been the one saving grace of this entire ordeal; that the shirt and pants he’s been wearing are more than comfortable, making him forget they aren’t his.

However, he still can’t bring himself to meet Robert’s eyes.

“Then what is it?” Robert asks, softening his tone further. “Aaron, talk to me.”

That gets his attention, causing him to look back up at him, Aaron sighing as he finally admits. “I can’t give them what they want.”

He swallows and adds, “I’m not exactly this happy, smiling model, am I?”

A beat passes, as Robert just gazes at him silently.

 _Probably just realising the truth_ , Aaron thinks, looking away, unable to bring himself to watch as the realisation and ensuing disappointment takes root in his boyfriend’s eyes; when he learns that he’s not the kind of guy who can let loose and pose in front of the camera like he can. That any picture they might take together, will probably always have him scowling.

But all Robert says is, “Then don’t smile.”

Aaron turns to look at him so quickly, he almost hears his own neck snap, his brow furrowing as he tries to process what he just heard.

“What?”

“It’s like I told you,” Robert says gently, like it’s no big deal. “This whole assignment is about whatever _you’re_ comfortable with. So just go out there and be yourself.”

He pauses for a second, before he continues, “If you don’t like the clothes, don’t wear them. If you don’t feel like smiling, then don’t it.”

He lowers his voice and grins as he adds, “Besides, you’re even fitter when you don’t.”

Aaron cracks a smile at that, relief slowly flowing through his system at Robert’s words; a weight slowly slipping off his shoulders.

“Thanks,” he tells him, finally taking and sipping his tea. “You should start an advice column or summat.”

It’s now Robert’s turn to smile and shake his head. Not that he can hide the affection that comes through in his eyes, as they stand there silently staring.

The studio door slams shut, Debbie making her grand reentry, and Aaron nods in acknowledgement. “Time for Take Two, then.”

He turns and heads back to the off-grey backdrop, Robert’s recent words playing in his head on a loop.

“Ready to try again?” Debbie asks, setting up her camera.

Aaron looks at her, silently nods, _yes_.

He clears his throat, a few seconds later, asking, “Do you mind if we play some music?”

She barely considers it, just nods and shrugs, saying, “I suppose anything would help at this point.”

Aaron rolls his eyes at her, but as the ad for the local radio station starts to play overheard, he finds himself beginning to relax a little further.

He finds his mark, and then closes his eyes. Trying to figure out what "act natural" means to him.

_Just go out there and be yourself._

He pushes his sleeves back, like he sometimes does on hoodies and sweaters, the chill in the air sending goosebumps up his bare arms — not that he notices with the sheer comfort of the motion and the light pressure that comes from bunched up fabric on his limbs.

Shaking out his arms, he lets out a sigh, then goes ahead and puts his hands in his pockets, the pose causing his sleeves to stretch across his biceps and forearms, as his shoulders kind of pull downwards, elongating his neck.

Opening his eyes, he doesn’t bother to smile, just stares point blank into the lens like it’s Robert. 

A few seconds later he hears the sound that is a flurry of clicks, Debbie not saying a word as she continues to take his picture.

She pauses a short while later, going over to the monitor nearby, clearly checking to see the results.

Aaron remains standing there, waiting for some kind of sign, when she looks up at him and says, “What are you waiting for? Go get into your next outfit.”

“So that was fine?” He asks, despite himself, needing to hear the confirmation from her lips once again.

“Yeah, really good,” Debbie tells him, as if it was obvious the entire time. “Remind me to never tell you to smile.”

He has to bite back the one already making its way to his lips as he goes back to get changed. But it still slips out when he locks eyes with Robert.

:::::

He keeps the sweater on as part of the next selected outfit, only this time paired with a beige pair of khakis and a fitted black blazer; Robert apparently attempting to recreate the look he’d sported on their first day together.

Aaron smiles and thinks of the suit jacket hanging in his closet…

… and how he never got around to returning it.

He gets confirmation of this when he pulls back the curtain, Robert standing there and scrolling through his phone. He looks up at the sound of the curtain rings clinking, going still as he simply seems to drink in the sight of him.

Feeling a flush come over him at such close observation, Aaron rubs the back of his neck, trying to look at least a little bit flattered.

He watches, slightly incredulous, as Robert lifts his phone up, and snaps a quick picture of him on the spot.

“Isn’t that Debbie’s job?” Aaron teases nervously, stepping forward to take a look that he’s sure Robert’s done with his photography.

“It is,” Robert acknowledges, smiling down at his phone screen as he tilts it towards Aaron. “But I’m not much good at waiting.”

The photo’s nothing like what he’d just seen in the mirror; not a hint of awkwardness in sight. If anything, Aaron actually looks like he’s _enjoying_ the attention, a bashful confidence coming through where he hadn’t felt any before.

 

Aaron shakes his head, his cheeks growing warmer, even as a sense of pride fills his chest — something he’s fairly sure has to do with Robert’s open appreciation.

Unsure of how to respond to both the photo or the words, he just clears his throat and nods towards the other side of the panels.

“Better get out there, I guess,” Aaron tells Robert awkwardly. “Wouldn’t want to keep you waiting any longer.”

:::::  
 

This time the backdrop is a lighter shade of grey, the light reflecting off it making the colours of his clothes pop further, as evidenced when he looks down at his feet while he’s thinking.

He doesn’t know how he wants to play this, or what he’s going to do. Just that he doesn’t want to use the same pose as he did for the last one. (Or the one he’d accidentally found himself doing for Robert.)

It comes to him as he looks back up, moving to straighten his jacket and how it sits on his shoulders. Turning towards the backdrop behind him, he sees that the partial wall that it’s made of is quite sturdy.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Debbie prompts, sounding just a little bit bored. But Aaron ignores her, his mental wheels spinning.

He walks up towards the back, and then turns and leans against it, one knee bent up and slowly resting. He pulls the front openings of his blazer forward, smoothing out any folds or wrinkles, the move showing off the definition of his arms, as the fabric does it’s thing and pulls a little tighter.

Feeling more confident than before, he looks up and sticks out his chin, like he remembers Robert had done for his own shoot. Then once again, he looks right into the camera, as if asking both Debbie — and indirectly Robert — a gruff and pointed _what?_

It’s quickly followed by a series of clicks, with Debbie eventually ceasing and giving him a satisfied nod _and_ a thumbs up, her eyes still on the camera screen in front of her.

There’s a low buzz building deep in his belly, a wave of energy rising in his veins. It’s only intensified by the way he sees Robert looking at him, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Smiling to himself, Aaron walks back to the changing area, making sure he brushes right against him, not breaking eye contact even once the entire time, acting like he doesn’t even care.

He can feel Robert slightly turn as his arm and shoulder rub past, both giving way to him and turning to watch him go, his gaze clearly fixed on his retreating form, as felt by the way his hair stands on end.

He doesn’t realise it, until he’s standing in front of the mirror once more, but the whole thing feels entirely quite natural.

:::::  
 

He almost laughs out loud when he sees the final outfit, the whole thing stored in a telltale beige carrier bag; Aaron having to carefully unzip it to even glimpse it.

He takes the suit out gently, not wanting to crease it, already certain that it costs more than all the clothes he’s owned in his life combined.

The jacket is a rich navy blue, but the lapels in front are made from a shiny black silk; a black bowtie hangs around the neck of the hanger, the same exact shade as the black shirt hung on it inside.

“Told you you’d look good in one.”

He’s not surprised to hear Robert’s voice from behind him, in fact he’d almost been expecting it, given the way he’s stayed close this entire afternoon. He turns to find him gazing at the suit, radiating an open kind of fondness.

“Should have known you’d pull something like this,” Aaron says shaking his head, now convinced that _this_ was probably the whole point of this assignment.

“Well, we do need to show our readers what good formal wear looks like,” Robert replies, taking the hanger from Aaron’s hand and holding the suit against him. He lowers his voice as he adds, “Especially when worn by my very fit boyfriend… Consider it a bit of an early Christmas present to myself.”

Aaron brings his hand up and takes the hanger hook back from Robert, still holding the suit pressed against his front.

Robert takes a step back, still staring and grinning. “You better hurry up and get dressed, Mr. Dingle. You know how I feel about waiting.”

Aaron blushes as he watches him close the curtain and leave, before turning and hanging the suit on the clothing rack beside him.

It’s as he’s getting ready that inspiration strikes, leaving Aaron smirking at his reflection in smug satisfaction.

That low buzz begins to form again, only this time mixed with anticipation.

Christmas will be coming early for both of them.

:::::

His excitement dulls into nervousness as he once again steps out into the main studio, but another wolf whistle from Kerry confirms that he’s made the right choice, something he’d been doubting ever since he’d pushed aside that curtain.

“Robert, man, I am never doubtin’ you again!” He hears her shout in firm appreciation, but he doesn’t turn around to see Robert’s reaction.

He can feel his eyes on him the entire time he’s walking back to the final backdrop — this one more of a greyish off-white — but he still doesn’t look back at him once; avoiding his gaze until he feels ready.

Aaron finds his mark and breathes in and out slowly a couple of times, trying to calm his resurfacing nervous excitement.

He stands how he’d seen in that quick Google search he’d run, while looking up the best way to model a suit. He’s got one hand in his pocket, the other by his side, highlighting the fabrics form and fit on him.

But this time, instead of looking into the camera, he looks slightly past it, and straight at Robert, lifting his chin and giving him a slow smile, mentally asking him, _So, what do you think?_

His answer is Robert just standing there and blinking, his jaw slowly dropping open.

Aaron shifts in place, lets his legs spread apart a little more, the smooth fabric of his pants gliding against his thighs. Predictably, Robert’s eyes drop a little lower, and he sees him swallow and keep on staring.

“Guess we’re all done,” Debbie declares, a few minutes later, happy enough to go through the photos she’s shot.

“Actually,” Aaron interrupts, clearing his throat somewhat shyly. “I’ve got something I want to try.”

The only reason he sees her consider it and nod is because she’s standing partially in his line of vision, his attention still trained on Robert.

Slowly and deliberately, Aaron starts to unbutton his suit jacket, letting it fall wide open and letting the shirt underneath speak all for itself; thin navy blue cotton with silver dots spattered all across it, straining against his much broader chest.

He watches as Robert’s eyes start to widen, the realisation hitting him and making his jaw drop further.

_Yeah. It’s your shirt that I’m wearing._

He strips himself of the jacket and pins it to him using his arm, as he starts folding his sleeves back bit by bit. He looks over at Robert, finds him tracking his fingers, eyes hungrily watching him peel back each and every fold.

When he finished one arm, he moves on to the next, mirroring Robert’s own movements from that first day in the office.

Job complete, he slings the suit back on his shoulder with one hand and puts the other in his pocket, showing off the shirt for all to see.

He looks at the camera and gives it a nod before he looks back at Robert again.

Even from here, he can see the flush on Robert’s face as his eyes lock instantly with Aaron’s. He smiles at him, not as cold anymore, his own body warmed by Robert’s long-distance wanting.

When Debbie seems done, he says, “I’ve got another idea.”

She just looks at him and shrugs. Her way of saying, _Yeah, why not?_

Aaron reaches up and unhooks his bow tie, so it hangs on either side of his collar. Then, he pops his top button in a single move, exposing his neck a little more than he’d ever intended. To complete the look, he partially untucks the shirt, like he’s stumbled back home from a party.

Confident with that decision and how he probably looks, he spreads his legs apart, now staring straight into the camera. He waits a few seconds before he parts his lips, and brings his neck back just a little; thinking of all the times he’s had Robert on his knees in front of him.

Just the thought of it, makes his cheeks burn and his throat go dry — the physical reaction compounded by the way Robert’s openly staring, their eyes meeting as he feels the tension coming off him in waves, definitely not hearing a word of what Kerry is currently saying.

This time, Aaron turns and smirks right into the camera.

_Merry Christmas Robert._

:::::  
 

He’s back in the changing area, checking himself out in the mirror, when Robert arrives, standing in the makeshift doorway between panel and curtain. Aaron looks up and meets his eyes through his reflection, Robert watching him silently, biting his lip the entire time.

“Come to give me a hand with the unwrapping?” Aaron smirks, taking the loose bowtie off his neck and tossing it onto the nearby chair, where his suit jacket lays more carefully folded. “Too late. I already started.” 

He can see the exact moment Robert’s eyes darken. Only he doesn’t say anything, just steps forward and pulls the curtain shut behind him, walking towards Aaron until he’s stood directly behind him, his hands coming up to grip him by the waist. Robert inches forward slightly, the thick bulge at the front of his jeans pressing into the curve of his bum, as he leans forward and almost _purrs_ in his ear, “Best present ever.”

Aaron smiles in the mirror, leans his head to the side, as Robert presses a kiss to the side of his neck, his nose brushing the side of his bearded jaw as he starts to grind his hardened cock against him.

“I keep… thinking about…” Robert whispers haltingly, voice low and lips wet as he plants another kiss, this time on the other side of Aaron’s neck, his mouth skimming the top of his collar. “fucking you…in nothing but that shirt.”

Robert pauses, as he breathlessly says, “Too bad we have to wait till later…”

Aaron steps back a little, his eyes half shut so all he can see is Robert’s blonde forehead as he goes back to kissing his neck, sucking a swatch right under his left ear,

Aaron starts rubbing his arse against Robert’s straining dick, before he half-whispers, voice already rough and heavy, “You know… I’m not much good at waiting either.”

He opens his eyes and sees Robert pause his kissing, as he looks up and meets his gaze, both of them bouncing off each other in the mirror; greenish blue questioning blue.

_You sure about this?_

Aaron bites his lip, hips still grinding backwards, as he half-growls, “Wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t. Though if you still need convincing…”

He moves to step away, but Robert tightens his grip, his fingers pressing into his sides as he keeps holding Aaron close to him.

Aaron smirks at the response, before reaching up and taking Robert’s left hand from his waist, and guiding it down to the front of his crotch, where he has the makings of his own quickly-forming hard on. He pushes up into Robert’s palm a little, before grinding back down on his bulging cock. Robert bites a groan into his shoulder.

Aaron leans back into his chest as Robert continues to stroke him through his trousers, applying a little more speed and pressure, his long fingers tracing the length of him.

As he pushes forward once more, Robert pulls him back toward him, gliding his hand up and towards the waist of Aaron’s pants. His other hand comes to meet it, as he unzips and unbuttons him. Only he doesn’t let the trouser fall, like Aaron had expected, instead gripping the waistband firmly and slowly lowering himself to his knees so Aaron can simply step out of both legs easily.

He steps forward, glancing in the mirror, mesmerised by the sight of Robert’s face between his legs, gathering up and folding the pants with care, before sliding them to the side. 

Biting his lip, Aaron lets his black boxers slip down his thighs as he spreads his feet and leans forward towards the mirror. He plants both his hands on it, the glass cold to his touch, and holds his bum as out towards Robert as much as he can, the front of his shirt bunching up around the base of his naked shaft.

He barely hears him, his heart pounding in his ears at the anticipation of what they’re about to do.

What he wants _Robert_ to do.

“You sure?” Robert whispers, voice barely audible. But Aaron sees his lips move in the mirror, the question implicit. _Here? At work? When anyone can walk in?_

“Might as well put that gob to some use,” he teases gruffly, shifting his stance a little wider.

He doesn’t hear anything for a few seconds, and then he feels a slight chill on his arse as the shirt fabric is moved, followed by firm hands gripping his cheeks, the smooth fingers parting them as Robert’s tongue swipes from his perineum to his hole in greeting.

A shiver passes through him, a stirring of satisfaction as he pushes down after it. He’s never wanted this more in his life.

Robert sets a steady rhythm, licking and pressing, and it’s all Aaron can feel, his breath coming out in jagged groans against the mirror, the moisture of his exhales bouncing back and hitting him in the face, causing a small patch of fogged up glass.

All Aaron sees when he opens his eyes, is the sight of his cock already leaking; the precome glistening in his reflection, his head red and aching. Unable to stand it, he brings his hand down starts to tease it, focusing on the sight of his thumb and his forefinger as they smear the fluid across his shaft, making sure to avoid the front of the shirt.

His right hand remains pressed up against the glass, that area of surface now warm under his touch, the only thing helping anchor him in place. A sheen of sweat is forming under both his sleeves, causing it to be plastered to the angles and curves of his muscles, pulling against him with each and every move.

Aaron strokes himself, cresting each roll of pleasure, when he first feels Robert breach his opening with the tip of his tongue, hardening it as he keeps on poking and thrusting, making his thighs tremble and his breath hitch, drawing the gasps and pants out of him.

It’s as his knees begin to weaken that he makes his request. “Robert, inside me, _now._ ”

For a second he thinks Robert hasn’t heard him, his voice too rough and low. But then his tongue suddenly stops, and his lips take its place, giving Aaron’s hole a wet but gentle kiss.

The softness of it almost makes his knees buckle, but Robert holds him in place at the last second; strong hands supporting his pleasure pliant body.

He lets out a shuddering breath as he steadies himself and stands up a little straighter, Robert’s hands leaving him and the smooth fabric of the shirt cover his bum again. He remains as he is, dick firmly in hand, as he tries to once again regain his mental bearings. The fogged up glass starts to clear, and his movements up and down his dick are now slower and more languid — despite the tingle building up in his balls.

Robert comes up behind him, underwear and jeans around his ankles and condom in hand, only he steps forward, reaches around Aaron’s waist and slides it onto _him_ , nudging his come-slick hand off in the process as he warns, “The only thing I’m ruining today is _you_.”

Aaron just shuts his eyes in pleasure as Robert’s hand slides down and off his shaft, his thumb swiping the head of his cock as it comes off his latex-covered member.

“What about you?” He whispers, when he opens them again, looking past his shoulder at the reflection of Robert’s face, which looks only a bit more put together than he does.

“You're not the only one who can prepare,” He grins back at Aaron, holding up the remains of a _second_ wrapper over his shoulder. The blue metallic foil catching in the changing area’s lights.

Aaron laughs at the sheer surprise of it, not having expected it at all — much like most things that have to do with Robert. The sound quickly turns into a slow groan of pleasure as one of Robert’s wet fingers enters him, followed closely by a second, stretching him out for good measure.

“Robert, _please_ ,” Aaron stresses again, moving his arse back to chase that particular feeling. He brings up his left hand to the mirror for additional support, letting the coolness of the glass seep into his sticky, come-moistened palm.

Thankfully, Robert actually does what he says, and soon the fingers are replaced by a penis. 

Aaron shuts his eyes as he feels Robert slowly fill him, the insides of him stretching to accommodate his hard length. He widens his stance, so Robert can sink deeper, letting out a shuddering breath as he does so.

It’s in the middle of this that he finally notices the song on the radio, someone in the studio having turned the station up as they take the backdrops apart. It’s the tail end of Kendrick Lamar’s “LOVE.,” the airy vocals of the sung hook sweeping through him as Robert moans in tandem, the sounds mingling together in his ears.

_Give me a run for my money…_

Robert pulls out and thrusts in once more, the lack of lube resulting in a fair bit of friction. But the sensation only heightens how Aaron’s feeling, as he releases a groan deep from his belly when Robert’s cock hits his prostate  
_  
There is nobody, no one to outrun me…_  

He splays his fingers across the mirror’s surface to give himself some sort of purchase as each thrust kind of slams into him, making him see stars behind his eyelids. He pushes back into each thrust, feeling his own tightness as Robert moves inside him, his hands massaging Aaron’s sides under the shirt. (Though Aaron’s not sure if it’s because Robert just likes to touch, or if he needs the support — either way, it feels good and he doesn’t care.)  
_  
So give me a run for my money…_  

Robert starts to speed up, his hips now slapping into the back of Aaron’s thighs, as his breath comes out in a series of soft grunts, a joint soundtrack to Aaron’s own groans and occasional hisses.  
_  
Sipping bubbly, feeling lovely, living lovely…_  

He can feel the stirrings of an orgasm building low in his belly, so once again, he brings his left hand down, stroking at himself, trying to coax it along a little faster. He can sense Robert nearing the edge of his own release, based on the intensity with which he’s moving; doing his best to restrain himself, but ultimately unable to really hold back, following his release inside Aaron.  
_  
Just love me…_  

It’s then Aaron finally opens his eyes, his vision barely in focus. When things do clear up, he can see himself in the mirror, face red, curls damp, and clearly in the throes of ecstasy; doing his best to help out Robert.

_I wanna be with you, ayy, I wanna be with…_

His left hand picks up the pace, stroking and twisting and stroking, his eyes now fixed on Robert’s face — more specifically the smile of arousal on his lips, as he realises Aaron’s watching him.

 _I wanna be with you, ayy, I wanna be with…_  

The intensity of Robert’s returned gaze is strong even through his half-lidded and unfocused eyes, the desire in it stoking the tight coiling in his groin. Finally, it snaps, sending him towards his climax, Robert’s eyes locked into his, and a hand furiously pumping his dick until it spills. The only thing he’s able to note with any real clarity when he comes, is the blissed-out smile on his lips.

_I wanna be with you…  
_

:::::

He runs into Kerry on his way out of the studio, just as she’s making her way over to the changing area. Knowing Robert’s still back there ensuring that the clothes are all fine, Aaron steps in her way, hoping it will draw her into a conversation.

It works because she stops right in front of him with a great big smile. 

“So… What did ya think?” Kerry asks, nodding over to where the backdrops are now being cleared. “Did you have fun bein’ a model?”

Aaron thinks about the last few minutes of his shoot, how he’d enjoyed knowing he was making Robert hot and bothered with nothing but his clothes and his actions.

“It was alright, I suppose,” he answers with a casual shrug, not wanting to let on just how much he’d ended up enjoying that particular aspect of posing. “Don’t think I’ll be doing this again, though.”

“But what about the _clothes_?” Kerry nudges, paying his attitude no mind as she excitedly swats his arm. “Was I right, or was I right, about Robert?”

“You were right,” Aaron says truthfully — as if he could even give any other answer — each outfit he’d put on had felt like a second skin, highlighting his best features in ways he’d never expected. (That, and he’s fairly certain Kerry would smack him if he’d said anything negative about Robert or his clothing tastes, his boyfriend having earned himself a clear fan while working on this assignment.)

“All of it was good,” he adds earnestly, not at all feeling uncomfortable about revealing this particular truth. “Might actually go and buy some of those clothes for myself. Never really owned a suit that nice before.”

“Aw. That’s good.” Kerry beams. “That’s the whole point of fashion anyway.”

“Buying stuff?” Aaron questions, brow furrowing even as his lips form a teasing smile.

“No,” Kerry answers, rolling her eyes in exasperation. “Likin’ What you’re wearing! Otherwise, what’s the point of all this? I wouldn’t leave me house if I didn’t love how I looked. Trust me. I’ve seen some of the looks I get.” 

She gestures at her own clothes before giving him a knowing smile.

Aaron nods, cheeks warming as he remembers his thoughts from earlier. “Uh. Sorry.”

But Kerry just waves him off, like water off a duck’s back, “Look, I know not everyone may like what I wear. But it makes _me_ feel sexy and that’s all that matters anyway.”

Aaron bites his lip and thinks of those last few moments of the shoot, how he’d just stared the camera down with an unexpected confidence, spurred on simply by how good he’d felt in that suit.

He comes out of it a few moments later, when he realises Kerry’s still talking to him.

“-cause I’ll tell you another thing, and I’m sure Robert’ll agree, sometimes the sexiest thing you can wear is a smile.”

She flashes him a big one as an example, but his attention is already focused just over her shoulder, where Robert’s emerging from beyond the curtain, his eyes brightening when he sees Aaron.

He watches as Robert smiles and shakes his head when he sees that he’s talking to Kerry. He then turns continues wheeling out the clothes rack he’s brought with him; Aaron’s suit back in the carrier case at the end, Robert’s shirt — their shirt — hanging out in the open beside it, looking rumpled but not worse for wear.

When Aaron looks back at Kerry, she’s beaming up at him.

“See! That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” She says, smacking him on the arm. “Don’t know why you think you can’t smile.”

Standing there, with a warmth in his chest, he’s not quite sure either.

:::::

He gets called into Jai’s office as he’s walking past it on his way to Adam’s desk, having seen that his friend had texted about grabbing coffee during the photo shoot, when he'd been otherwise preoccupied. The door is open and the lights are on, because Jai is actually seated and working at his desk for once.

When Aaron steps inside, he sees that it’s a lot less cluttered than he remembers from earlier in the week. Gone are all the boxes and Chrissie’s weird avocado-coloured ergonomic chairs, now replaced with somewhat empty surfaces and two single-seater brown leather ones. He makes a note to tell Robert. 

Jai must notice him looking around, because he explains, “Chrissie’s office is finally ready. So she decided it was probably time to move.”

Aaron nods, giving him a thin-lipped smile, not really sure what to do with that bit of information.

“Where’s she sitting then?” He brings himself to ask, after what feels like a millennia of waiting in silence, Jai now clearly distracted and thinking of something else.

Thankfully that seems to get his attention as he lightens up and looks back over at Aaron.

“Oh, she’s just a few offices over,” he tells him, with a bit more enthusiasm than Aaron’s ever seen from him — not even that time Cain had won an award. “I was thinking I’d go over and say hi a little later. You know, when she’s more settled.”

Aaron just nods in agreement, still unsure what else there is to say, as they once again descend into mutual silence.

“But that’s not why I called you here,” Jai says eventually, as if finally remembering the point. “I just wanted to say, good job. That article with Robert’s been doing quite well online.”

He turns his desktop screen towards him, illustrating his point.

“Really?” Aaron asks, as he steps forward, his eyes skimming the constantly shifting list and adjoining figures, but he finds their joint headline close to the top.

“Really,” Jai says, moving his cursor over. It’s true their click count is higher than Aaron’s ever seen on one of his own pieces, as is the reader and social engagement.

“But it’s not just this,” Jai continues, turning the monitor back towards him. “It’s your other writing as well. Your last couple of stories are some of the best work you’ve produced since you started working here.”

“You really mean that?” Aaron asks, unable to believe Jai’s words, well aware that the editor is usually stingy with his praise.

“I do,” Jai responds, a warm smile on his face. “You’ve always known and understood music. No one’s questioning that. But now it’s like you actually understand our readers.”

“Uh, thanks,” Aaron replies, uncomfortable at the compliment, seeing as he’s done very little to really deserve it. “But that’s all Robert. It was his idea.”

He waits a beat, before adding, tone a little tongue-in-cheek, “Guess he really does know what people want.”

“He’s actually improved quite a lot too,” Jai states, clicking away at something on screen. “It’s a lot more mature and nuanced than his work at GQ, but I guess that’s to be expected.”

Aaron looks at him curiously and Jai lowers his voice, his volume now a little bit above a whisper. “I actually had a quick word with him the night of the welcome party. Gave him a few tips and pointers, just in case. Didn’t want to upset Chrissie if his writing wasn’t up to par.” 

Jai smiles, pleased with his little secret, pride seeping into his voice. “It clearly worked. And the same goes for _our_ little chat. Look at the pair of you now!” 

Aaron bites back a smile, pursing his lips instead, just nodding in silent agreement. When he feels like any laughter is contained, he replies, “Yeah, guess we both just needed a little talking to.”

“Well keep up the good work,” Jai says, Aaron’s response having pleased him further. “I’m really looking forward to this next piece. Robert mentioned you’ll both be writing about your experiences?”

“Yeah,” Aaron answers, sighing as he thinks about the work they have ahead of them. “That’s the plan.”

“Great. I’ll let you get back to work,” Jai says, turning back to his computer.

Even though he’s dismissed, when Aaron steps out the door, all he feels is a tingle of excitement.

Instead of walking towards Adam’s desk as he’d originally intended, he heads the other way, now going in search of Robert.

::::::

He finds Robert as he goes down the same narrow hallway they’d run into each other in on their way over to their desks this morning, and he takes a second to study his boyfriend in action, watching as he casually walks ahead of him unawares.

There’s a bounce in Robert’s step, his arms swinging in confidence, the leather jacket perfectly complimenting the tight fit of his jeans, as he practically _strolls_ back to where they both sit, obviously enthused to come back and see Aaron.

Smiling fondly, Aaron lets his eyes linger, taking in the whole sight of Robert and flashing back to the day when they’d first met. He’d been ready to punch his face in then, his immediate attraction to Robert furiously prickling under his skin, made worse by the fact that Robert had been presumptuously smug and smarmy. But now Aaron knows that wasn’t the case, that he’d just been trying to impress him as best he could — even though he’d sensed he'd been failing. 

Only now he has, hasn’t he? Winning over Aaron’s heart (and his mind) bit by bit. And just like that, his momentary embarrassment quickly gives way to a wave of pure affection, spurred on by the sound of Robert’s chipper humming. Bear's Den. Again. 

Biting his lip, he decides to act on it. Springing forward quickly and covering the ground between them. He grabs Robert by the upper arm and pulls him into the nearby conference room, where he quickly shuts the door and pins him up against it. But instead of shock or surprise, he finds an amused smile waiting for him, as he steps forward into Robert’s face, one leg between both of his slightly longer ones. 

“Ready for round two already?” Robert asks, gaze flicking down to Aaron’s lips.

He doesn’t answer, just leans in and kisses him, pressing their lips and noses together, before coming back up to smile at him, as they both stand there breathing a little heavily. 

“Just felt like saying hi,” Aaron finally explains, though he doesn’t take a step back, just keeps standing there and crowding his personal space.

Robert puts his hands on his hips — muscles flexing a bit under Aaron’s grip on both upper arms — but he doesn’t make a move to do anything else. 

“Too bad, I didn’t hear you the first time,” Robert teases playfully. “You might have to say it again.”

Aaron rolls his eyes, but still comes in for the kiss, Robert quickly deepening it. His tongue licks his bottom lip, Aaron immediately granting him entry, their tongues continuing to slide against each other. 

When he pulls away, he sees that Robert’s eyes are still closed, though a smile remains on his lips. He clears his throat, when he finally opens them, whispering, “Think I heard it this time.”

Aaron chuckles, sliding his hands down to his elbows, his grip now a little looser but still as firm; his thumbs stroking the warm black leather in his grasp. 

“I was thinking…” Robert asks, gazing at him through lazy, hooded eyes. “Would you like to go out for a drink? We can get dinner after.”

Aaron grins, unable to stop himself from teasing, “Hate to break it to you. But we are already dating.”

Robert shakes his head, ignoring his attempt at humour, even though the knowing in his smile tells Aaron he got it.

“I mean like a real date,” Robert stresses. “You and me out at a restaurant. Not cooking dinner back at one of their places and sitting down with a box set.”

“Excuse me, you said you loved my cooking,” Aaron argues playfully. “You just don’t want to stay up watching _Westworld_  again.” 

“Putting beans on toast isn’t cooking,” Robert points out in warm exasperation. “And excuse _me_ for wanting to see my boyfriend dressed up again. Once wasn't enough.”

Aaron bites his lip, seriously considering it, knowing Robert's blazer is still in his closet. Only his phone buzzes before he can answer.

“That your phone, or are you just happy to see me?” Robert jokes, as Aaron reaches into his pocket and fishes it out.

He frowns as he sees the message on his screen: two photos of Robert a few blocks away from his building, smiling and laughing with a brown-skinned man; his curls cut short and wearing black-framed glasses similar to the ones worn by Finn. 

Judging by Robert’s outfit — notably his lack of leather jacket — the photo was taken a few days ago. Aaron notes the plastic takeaway bag in his hand.  
 

 **TRACY  
** Think I found Robert’s new beau! Look at them getting all cosy.

 

“What’s the matter?” Robert asks, noting the change in his expression. Aaron just silently shows him the phone screen. 

Robert falls silent as he reads her text, and glances at the accompanying photos.

“Wait,” he finally says, tone incredulous at what he’s seeing. “Does she really think I’m dating my neighbour _Emile_?”

Aaron just shrugs and smiles, “I think you make a lovely couple. You should ask him where he wants to go for dinner tonight.”

Robert moves up to poke him, Aaron flinching away ticklishly, even though he still releases a light chuckle. 

But his smile fades as he moves back to where he’d been standing, his gaze coming up to meet Robert’s. “What should I tell her? I don’t want to lie. She’s actually quite nice when you get to know her…”

The note of hesitancy in his voice as he trails off echoes in the silence. 

“But you’re not ready to tell her about us,” Robert says softly, finishing his thought. 

“I’m not ready to tell _anyone_ about us,” Aaron explains as best he can. “I just don’t think it’s anyone else’s business.” 

Seeing Robert’s face, he quickly adds, while putting his phone away without replying. “At least not right now. It’s like you said. I like it bein’ just us.”

“And it’s like I said, I’m fine with that,” Robert reassures him before his focus falls back down to Aarons’ lips. His eyes trained on it as he adds, “All that matters is you and me.”

Aaron smiles nervously as he ventures the ask, “So you’re fine with not going out tonight?”

He watches Robert’s face, his stomach fluttering anxiously, knowing full well this is a test for his boyfriend.

But Robert just sighs and nods in acquiescence, “Better call Emile and see what he wants to eat tonight.”

Aaron rolls his eyes, but still goes in for a kiss, something sweet and not at all sexual, pressing their lips together tight so Robert can feel his gratitude. 

“How about this…” He suggests when he leans back, stroking his hand up and down Robert’s arm, his fingers feeling the hardness of Robert’s bicep. “You cook. And _I’ll_ handle dessert.”

He looks back up at Robert, gazing into his eyes, and flashing him a cheeky smile.

“Thought you said you couldn’t make dessert,” Robert points out, brow furrowing slightly. A few seconds later the realisation hits and his eyes start to widen, the smile falling off his lips. 

Aaron just nods, pursing his lips as he continues stroking with his fingertips. “But I do know you enjoy sex… and custard.” 

“So what? I have a sweet tooth,” Robert says in his defence, as he leans forward chasing Aaron’s mouth for another kiss.

Their lips just touch, when there’s another buzz between them. This time it belongs to Robert.

Aaron leans back as he fishes his phone out. Robert now frowning as he looks at the screen.

“It’s Vic,” he explains, his mouth a thin line. “I forgot. I’m supposed to meet her for dinner.”

He sighs, “I’ll just cancel.”

Before he can start typing, the phone vibrates again, Robert’s frown deepening as his eyes continue reading. “She says there’s a lot she wants to tell me..."

And then he reads out, doing an impression of his sister. "‘So don’t even think about cancelling.’”

Robert groans in disappointment as he leans his head back against the door behind him. Aaron chuckles in amusement at how well Vic knows him.

“It’s nice you’re close,” Aaron tries to reassure him, his strokes up Robert’s arm now meant for comfort, hoping his hand is as soothing as he means for it to be.

Robert opens his eyes, and looks back at his face, his eyes studying Aaron before he says, “It would be nicer if you could drop by with dessert _after_.”

Aaron shakes his head, but he still smiles and says, “Yes. Wouldn't want to keep that sweet tooth waiting.” 

And then he comes in to complete that kiss.

Only this time he gets within a centimetre away, when _his_ phone goes off again.

“Tell Tracy, you’re working on something important,” Robert says, frustration clouding his voice.

But Aaron shakes his head as he reads his screen. “It’s Adam. He wants me to meet him for a beer later.”

Now it’s his turn to sigh, as he looks back up at Robert. “I suppose I could go meet him, then go home and do some laundry, and I guess come around to your place later after you’re done with Vic?” 

“Laundry?” Robert asks, completely ignoring the rest of the point. “Do you need help getting anything else dirty?”

He appreciatively eyes Aaron’s face and then lets his gaze drop down to his chest, from where he proceeds even lower.

“Think we’ve almost messed up enough clothes today,” Aaron states trying to get them back on track as he texts Adam an affirmative reply. He puts his phone away. “Besides, don’t want to ruin your appetite for later.”

Robert doesn’t answer, just leans down for a kiss, his lips curved gleefully upwards.

That’s when Aaron’s phone goes off for what feels like the millionth time, making him question his entire friendship with Adam.

Echoing his frustration, Robert brings his head back against the door, sighing dramatically as his fingers start to play with Aaron’s waist; stroking a path back and forth.

“It’s Jai,” Aaron tells him distractedly, tapping into the newly received email.

He reads it once. Then he reads it again. And then he reads it a third time just for extra measure.

He grins at the words, the answer to all their problems.

“It’s about an assignment I’d pitched a couple of months ago,” Aaron smiles, looking back at Robert. “There’s a music festival in Leeds this weekend he wants me to cover.” 

Seeing that Robert doesn’t quite follow, he decides to spell it out, “I was thinking… Maybe we could go together?” 

“Are you asking me away for the weekend?” Robert asks him slyly, a slow grin forming on his face.

“Yeah, I am,” Aaron thinks for a second. “It would give us a chance to get away from all… this. Give us a chance to just be together, properly.”

_Like a normal couple, without all the hiding._

“I’d love to,” Robert answers without giving it a second thought. 

“You sure?” Aaron asks again, not sure if Robert truly understands what he’s saying yes to. “We’d basically be camping in a tent.”

“So?” Robert shrugs, leaning in as he attempts another kiss again. “That just means we’ll have to sleep a little… closer.”

Aaron shakes his head, accepting the answer. But he still moves forward and meets Robert’s lips, his hands dropping down to his sides as he starts to deepen it. 

He can reply to Jai’s email later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there. Sorry for the long delay on this. This chapter wound up being a bit more personal than I'd originally intended (a nigh hilarious joke because at some point this whole fic has just become a journal). 
> 
> In any case, one of the things I really wanted to do in this AU is have Aaron's scars be more emotional than physical because I think those are the kind that really pain us even years later, and also I wanted to give more weight to his relationship with Ed, since it was the one directly before Robert and I've always felt like he was a little under-used as a character. Also, after some internal debate, I decided to keep Aaron's attempt at suicide, because that was a big moment in his development as a character on the show, but I changed it to fit the confines of this story. I hope that did that justice.
> 
> I hope I handled all discussion of sexuality and how we choose to explore and share that part of ourselves with as much care and nuance as possible because how we choose to approach it or broach it with others is truly personal to each individual, and to me, this is what felt true to both these characters. 
> 
> Please drop any thoughts, comments, questions, or concerns down below, or come find me on tumblr where I'm @rustandruin. Hope you have a very lovely weekend. I hope to get Chapter 8 out as soon as possible.


End file.
